








iC**, 





















y 







COPYRIGHT DEPOStr. 


* 




r . “ 








- (,-. 5 ..,.Jv, 




'•» 






> 4 /. 


f 

-'i, 



•d 


f ■ 


-'.v't; 


Vs 


>1 




» 4 ' 


'ill 


■ . 

■ V . 


’vv. 


7 >’ 


' C*0. .5 i |4**J 


Vv 

h 




- !♦ 

» 

* ''. 






> 


• > a 

’ . ' 


S 


■ r ' . 


1 


>\ * 






y ) 


A* 


t i 





' yr^. 4 . . 

■• >:v'i 


"Hm ''-'i 

■; '<S 


«! . 

/ ii' 


t I'l . ^ 


>:: : 


V. 


^i‘' /, fV / 




• i. ’ 

• I •» " 


4 > ' 

-/ ‘i 1 


^ •# 


I 


V ^ 


•r^. 


> .» 




];utf 



Altl 





CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


f 


ISi) Sirla ^arn 

.Then Came Caroline 
Caroline at College 





# * 


\ 



^ k 




4 


« 


P 


t 





1 . 








\ 


I 




• < 

/ 


t 

t 





d 


^ , 



I 



k 


4 


► 






V4 I 


t 



I • 




( 


* 


\ 


« 


t 






* 


I 


I 




f f 





f 

' % 



t 


\ 


» 


» • 




i t 




« 





I 




Caroline’s eyes held an expression that Jimmy cherished 
in his heart for many moons, frontispiece. 

See page 249. 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


By 

LELA HORN RICHARDS 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

M. L. GREER 



i 

2i 

AiVAD-a 

I 

i 

3S 


BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
1922 



Copyright, 1922, 

By Little, Browx, and Company. 

All rights reserved 
Published September, 1922 



Printed in the United States of America 


OCT -7 '2: 

©Cl A683559 


t 


I . . ^ 


ELEANOR 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I Day Dreams 1 

II Preparations 7 

III A Deferred Appointment .... 21 

IV Caroline Departs 32 

V California 38 

VI The Campus 46 

VII Biddy and Emma 63 

VIII Old Friends 75 

IX The Old Caroline 81 

X Christmas 95 

XI New Friends 107 

XII New Experiences 115 

XIII The Sorority House 130 

XIV Caroline Causes a Panic 141 

XV A Friend in Need 159 

XVI Joy and Sorrow 170 

XVII A Party and Auf Wiedersehen . . . 189 

XVIII Home 199 

XIX Caroline Meets an Old Acquaintance . 212 

XX Leigh Gives the Family a Surprise . . 228 

XXI A Wedding 241 

XXII Cares and Responsibilities .... 250 

XXIII A Summer by the Sea 268 

XXIV A House Party 278 

XXV Success 290 

XXVI Commencement 300 



ILLUSTRATIONS 


Caroline’s eyes held an expression that Jimmy 
cherished in his heart for many moons . Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Many heads turned to watch the alert, slender 
figure as it passed 46 

Sometimes, over a cup of tea, Margaret and Caro- 
line talked the matter over 81 

Evelyn bowed and threw her rose into Caroline’s 
lap 


123 








CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


CHAPTER I 

DAY DREAMS 

C AEOLINE, fourth in Doctor and Mrs. Eave- 
nePs interesting family of girls, closed the 
roll top to the battered desk that stood between the 
west windows in the tower room, and softly patted 
its scarred ribs. 

<< There,’’ she said with a long-drawn sigh, 
‘‘there, old friend, I’m done with you for a long 
while — four years probably ; if I am lucky enough 
to finish college in that time ! ’ ’ 

She turned the key in the lock and sat for a 
moment contemplating the ugly, out-of-date model. 
“You aren’t very handsome,” she thought, caress- 
ing a disfiguring dent with a slender finger, “but 
I’ve adored you. It has been — how long has it 
been since Major carted you in from the attic to 
serve my needs and moods ? Six — seven — why, 
it must be eight years. Yes, all of that. Seven 
years since I wrote those love letters to Jimmy 
Ludlow on your broad breast. Letters he never 
saw — fortunately. ’ ’ 

She smiled as she turned in the swivel chair and 
glanced at the sunlit Peak that towered above its 
fellows in the west. 


2 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


‘ ‘ Eight years since I first saluted you, Old Man 
of the Mountain ! I remember so well how Major 
and I climbed the stairs to get this very view of 
you. Major said it was the altitude that made my 
heart beat like a trip hammer; but it wasn’t. Not 
altogether. It was your kingly presence. I had 
never bowed to royalty before. ” 

She left the desk, and sinking down on the 
cushioned window seat, gazed lovingly at the snow- 
crowned summit. 

‘^How much you could tell if you could only 
speak,” she whispered, closing her amber eyes 
dreamily. ‘‘How many, many things* you have 
seen pass in your day. Take this old red house of 
ours — ” 

She drew her feet under her skirt, planted her 
elbows upon her knees and let her chin drop in the 
palms of her hands. Before her half-closed eyes a 
panorama moved. Sometimes, as the pictures un- 
folded, she caught her breath in sudden laughter. 
Often she sighed, and once — tears trickled down 
the rosy tan of her sunburned cheeks. 

For an hour she sat there, oblivious to time and 
surroundings. She had slipped back — back to 
her tenth year : happy childhood days spent in the 
long triangular yard of her old Virginia home. 

She was a little girl again, wheedled and coaxed, 
scolded and petted by old black Maumy who held 
the reins of government in her fat, capable hands, 
— and still did, for that matter. 

Once again she was the naughty, incorrigible 
leader in neighborhood mischief. She could see 


DAY DREAMS 


3 


her old friend and comrade, Willie Boland, aiding 
and abetting the pranks her quick brain planned 
and executed: fantastic plays; games, romped 
through; hurried and forbidden excursions to the 
near-by hills with the McFee children, who were 
under a neighborhood ban. Social ostracism had 
always roiled Caroline ’s democratic heart. 

And of course there was the Major, her adored 
and sympathetic father. She had always called 
him Major; it was the first word she had lisped — 
back in her babyhood — way back, at the army post 
where she was the pet of the regiment, though she 
scarcely remembered those days. That was be- 
fore his health had broken and forced his retire- 
ment to the old home at the foot of the low Virginia 
hdls. 

And there was her handsome, gracious mother, 
gentle and dignified, who left the family disciplin- 
ing to her husband, her eldest daughter, Leigh — 
and Maumiy. Caroline could scarcely recall the 
time when Leigh had not mothered her — kissed 
away her hurts, bound her bruises, eased her 
sorrows : dear patient Leigh with face so like an 
angePs. Perhaps pain had helped mold those fea- 
tures. Leigh was so frail. Her weak spine, 
slightly curved, had long been a sorrow to the 
family. 

Alison came next in line : Alison, the beauty of 
the family, who had married Tevis McElroy, one 
of the richest young men in Virginia — and after 
her, Mayre, shy and artistic. 

Little Hope had followed Caroline, but she was 


4 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


gone now. A cruel fever had taken her away a 
few years after the long journey from Virginia to 
Colorado. It was the memory of that death that 
brought tears to Caroline's eyes. The wound in 
her heart had never quite healed. 

Caroline’s thoughts leaped from the beautiful, 
though somewhat decadent old home in the South, 
to the rambling red house that faced the snow- 
crowned Peak. She remembered so well her first 
glimpse of the place. Tired and travel-stained, 
the family had made a pilgrimage from the hotel 
up the wide, wind-blown street, to gaze upon it. 
She laughed as she recalled Mayre’s abhorrence. 
Mayre had hated the red paint that adorned the 
rustic domicile; Mayre ’s sensitive, artistic soul 
often rebelled at the incongruous. 

It had taken but a few weeks to turn it into a 
home, however. The quaint old furniture shipped 
from the South counteracted the questionable 
architecture, defeated awkward angles. Family 
portraits gave distinction. In the hall. Great- 
grandfather Kirtley (Mrs. RavenePs- paternal an- 
cestor) portly and aristocratic, proclaimed the 
family’s gentle blood, and Great-aunt Caroline 
smiled a winsome greeting to all who passed her 
friendly niche on the second landing. 

Great-aunt Caroline was a tradition. She was 
the youngest sister of Mrs. Ravenel’s father; had 
married well and taken up her abode in England. 
Although the family had long lost track of her, she 
was still spoken of as the generous Aladdin who 
would some day retrieve the lost Kirtley fortunes. 


DAY DREAMS 


5 


It had taken some time to make friends in the 
new surroundings. Mrs. RavenePs exclusive 
nature rebelled at chance acquaintances. But 
gradually the neighbors became known. Charm- 
ing Mrs. Ludlow across the street; her son Jimmy 
— a handsome, high-school youth when Caroline 
first met him. He was interested in Alison then, 
though he had long since transferred his admira- 
tion to the fourth member of the Ravenel brood. 

There was also Madame Wakefield and her 
young nephew, Alfred Feverel. They had arrived 
and taken up their abode in the stately mansion 
across the street soon after the Ravenel^s advent. 
Their acquaintance with Doctor RavenePs family 
developed through an accident. Caroline had 
risked her life one day to save Madame ^s pet dog 
from the wheels of a speeding automobile. The 
fact that she was too late did not lessen Madame ’s 
appreciation. The pleasant old lady with her 
rosy apple cheeks and friendly blue eyes — eyes 
strangely like the Kirtley’s — became Caroline’s 
fast friend. 

There were other neighbors. The Episco- 
palian clergyman and his family down the street; 
the Briggs family next door, rich and uninterest- 
ing; Mrs. Mathews and her son, Punny; Blair 
Newland, Jimmy Ludlow’s cousin, who was de- 
voted to Leigh. 

Caroline stirred presently and her head lifted. 
‘‘Daydreams!” she said, waving to the Peak as if 
to a companion — Caroline always humanized the 
things she loved. — “and Leigh waiting this min- 


6 


CABOLINE AT COLLEGE 


ute to help Miss Young with a fitting. Bother 
dressmaking! I don’t know whether I’m al- 
together crazy about being eighteen and ready for 
college or not. It means — anticipation, but it 
also means — renunciation ! ’ ’ 

She glanced about the Little box-like room re- 
gretfully. Then she arose, made sure that the 
desk was locked, and slipped the key into her 
pocket. She paused to straighten a book in the 
tiny shelf that had so long held her favorites and 
drew the window shades to a self-respecting 
angle. Mayre was always apologizing for their 
flighty moods — or rather, Caroline’s. 

At the door she turned and heaved another 
sigh. 

^ ^ Good-by — everything , * ^ she said huskily. 
‘‘Good-by until — we meet again. I won’t forget 
you — if you are shabby and scarred and dumb. 
I love every inch of you. ’ ’ 

She closed the door gently and turned toward 
the sewing room. 


CHAPTER II 


PKEPAKATIONS 

^ ^/^ETTINGr ready for college is almost as 
much fun as getting married/’ Caroline 
remarked, shifting the weight from one tired foot 
to the other and eyeing the half -finished frocks 
heaped on the sewing table. 

‘‘And no bother about the man,” supplemented 
Miss Young, who had weathered forty summers 
very comfortably without one. 

“Oh, I shouldn’t mind him in the least,” Caro- 
line flung back, again shifting her position : Miss 
Young knew how to make pretty frocks but she 
did keep one standing an unconscionably long 
time. “Especially if he were the right one — Oh, 
please mayn’t I have this skirt a little shorter? 
It’s to dance in, you know, if ever I get an invita- 
tion.” 

“Not too short, darling,” came Mrs. Ravenel’s 
patient voice from the window, where she was 
busy marking her daughter’s linen. “I do not 
approve of the prevailing length. When I went 
away to college, I could scarcely get my frocks 
long enough; they just escaped the ground.” 

“But that was thirty years ago, dearest, and 


8 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


styles do change, you know. Please, Mother — 
just a couple of inches — a couple of inches 
doesn’t make a scrap of ditference, unless it’s on 
one’s nose.” 

‘T really think Caroline is right. Mother,” in- 
terposed Mayre, coming to the rescue. ‘Tf Miss 
Young follows my sketch, she will have the correct 
length.” 

Caroline blew a kiss in her sister’s direction 
and bent to whisper something in the dress- 
maker’s ear. Miss Young smiled, but she shook 
her head. ‘T think if Mother doesn’t mind, we 
will follow Miss Mayre ’s directions,” she said. 

The last weeks of July had been trying ones in 
the household. 

‘‘The University of California hasn’t the least 
conscience about opening its doors in midsum- 
mer,” Caroline complained. “It means that one 
has to put in the very hottest weather dress- 
making. We’re all worn out; Miss Young ought 
to be resting up at Green Mountain Palls this very 
minute. ’ ’ 

“I shan’t mind in the least if everything turns 
out well,” the patient little seamstress replied 
kindly. 

“Oh, the gowns are loves, every one of them!” 
Caroline got out of the yellow chiffon and viewed 
it tenderly. “Between you and Mayre, I ought to 
be quite a sensation on the campus. WiU the 
white wool sport suit be done to-day — about four 
o ’clock — or just a little before ? I should awfully 
like to wear it.” 


PREPARATIONS 


9 


‘^Awfully, dear!’^ 

‘‘Very mucli, Mother; awfully is an awful word, 
isn’t itP’ 

“I hope that you will return from college with 
a greater respect for English, Caroline; when I 
attended Briarly Hall in the South, we were 
taught to choose our words with a view to express- 
ing our meaning. Now, awful — ” 

“Where were you going, dear, — Oh, I beg your 
pardon. Mother, I didn’t mean to interrupt — ” 

“I have an engagement, Mayre, with Jimmy 
Ludlow. I would like to wear a few of my best 
things before I leave. Jimmy adores sport suits. 
We were talking about them yesterday. I should 
so awfully — so very much — excuse me. Mother 
— like the brown dinner dress for to-night. It’s 
just the thing for Muriel’s dance at the Country 
Club. It’s stunning with the leghorn and yellow 
buttercups. I reckon that, after all, I am mighty 
lucky to have a rich sister who now and then sheds 
her finery. I defy anybody to find a hole in this 
chitfon — ” 

“I hope that you won’t find it necessary to tell 
your new acquaintances at college just how you 
came by your pretty things,” Mrs. Ravenel said 
with a sigh. 

“I shan’t unless they ask, but you know I hate 
putting on airs, like Muriel Roach. At the tea 
yesterday when the girls were talking about suits, 
she said, ‘Of course, one can never wear a suit 
more than one season.’ ” 

With fluttering eyelids and an irresistible drawl. 


10 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


Caroline produced MurieTs affected tones. “And 
I said — 

Mrs. Ravenel looked up quickly. 

“I said that if she were fourth in a family of 
girls, she^d wear whatever she could get, and I 
told her about that blue serge that was first bought 
for Alison; then Mayre wore it, and when it got 
to me, all that had to be done was just take up the 
seams and dye it, and I wore it for best — ’’ 

“Caroline, you did not say that!^’ 

“Surely I did; material as wonderful as that 
deserves a boost. Is there a ghost of a chance for 
the white wool to-day 

“I will help Miss Young,’’ Mayre offered and 
was rewarded with an ecstatic hug. 

Caroline went over to the sewing table and pick- 
ing up the frocks one by one, examined them 
lovingly. It was a goodly array; campus serges, 
tailored and durable; two afternoon gowns 
smartly made after Mayre ’s designs; two evening 
gowns, simple and girlish; the pleated sport skirt 
with its yellow and white striped jacket (Mayre 
still insisted upon brown and yellows for Caro- 
line) ; a soft silky raincoat and silver-topped um- 
brella with a stunning monogram. Cousin Eliza 
had sent that. 

Caroline moved toward the window where her 
mother sat stitching. At Mrs. Ravenel ’s feet 
stood a deep sewing basket filled with linen and 
lingerie. Caroline lifted them tenderly, viewing 
the strips of pale blue linen with “Caroline 
Ravenel” woven in it. Tears filled her eyes. 


PREPARATIOlSrS 11 

Those markers were Leigh’s contribution. She 
had ordered them when the Major first decided 
that Caroline was to go away to college. And 
Caroline knew that even so tiny a gift represented 
self-denial on Leigh’s part. How kind they all 
were to her. She turned and went into the tower 
room to hide the emotion that swept her. 

The desk was open and a sheaf of corrected 
manuscript lay on the blotting pad. Caroline had 
worked all summer on a story, with hope of its 
ultimate acceptance. She barely glanced at the 
typed pages — Major’s old machine had been 
brought into service — and opening a drawer 
dropped them in. 

For a moment she sat looking out on the Peak, 
gorgeous in a sapphire shawl shot with sunbeams. 
Her eyes, clear now and dreamy, were full of 
memories. 

Presently she lifted the faded blotting pad and 
running her hand back to the very edge, drew forth 
a note. She was more careful of her correspond- 
ence than in the old days, though no one but the 
Major ever visited the tower. 

Slowly she drew the letter from the envelope and 
read: 

“May I call for you a little before ^our to-day for a 
drive up the canon? Since your Western University is 
no respecter of summer vacations, there will be few op- 
portunities to look down on the world from the top of 
old Cheyenne. 


“As ever, 


“Jimmy.’’ 


12 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


A flush crept from her broAvn neck to the roots 
of her sunburned hair. Mauniy Rachel had 
brought her the note early in the morning and 
waited while she wrote the answer. 

‘‘That there butler er footman er whaCy’m’call 
him over at the Ludlows ^ done brung hit over and 
say he was to wait fer an answer, so hurry up, 
fer I’se bakin’ this mawnin’, and I ain’t got time 
to spare while you composes no sentiments.” 

The note was quickly written. It contained but 
one line: “I will be ready; thanks a lot. Lovely 
day for a ride.” And Maumy went off grinning. 

“Don’t you git too pertinacious with Mr. 
Jimmy,” she called back over her shoulder. 
“You ain’t never gwine find his like nowhar out 
side Virginny, and I reckon they’d have to rake 
the ole Blue Ridge thar. ’ ’ 

She lumbered on down the stairs and Caroline, 
laughing softly, turned her gaze toward the Peak. 

But the laugh soon died. There were moments 
when it was difficult to stem the hot tide of tears 
that welled and overflowed. Going away to col- 
lege was not all joy. Happy as she was, she 
dreaded the separation, — that last good-by to the 
Major. Sometimes a thought shot through her 
brain that left her cold: suppose some day they 
should send for her suddenly — 

She took a quick breath and smiled through her 
tears. A vivid imagination was not always a 
blessing, she thought, and hummed a tune to thwart 
disagreeable suggestions. 

When she had closed the desk and waved her 


PREPARATIONS 13 

quick salute to the old man in the west, she ran 
downstairs and knocked lightly on the office door. 
In response to a cordial ^‘Come in’’ she put a 
cheerful face through the door. 

‘‘Anybody round here want a hitching post this 
morning r’ she called. 

“Can they spare you upstairs, honey?” 

“They don’t want me. Major. The last time I 
helped, Mayre had to spend hours ripping. I 
wasn’t born to sew. How many calls have you!” 

‘ ‘ Only two, but they are several miles out. ’ ’ 

“All right. I’ll get my hat.” 

It was a perfect summer morning. Selah, 
taking her own gait, ambled lazily down the wide 
avenue. Caroline settled back against the worn 
phaeton cushions, and taking off her hat, let the 
soft wind stray through her hair and over her 
warm cheeks. 

For awhile she did not speak; the Major too 
was silent. Now and then he cast an atfectionate 
glance at the serious face turned toward the 
mountains. 

Caroline was not conscious of the gaze ; thoughts 
were traveling slowly through her hazy brain. 
Wlien Caroline dreamed she took her own time, 
going over details with a lingering fondness. At 
present she was reviewing the months that fol- 
lowed her eighteenth birthday. 

It was in June that her father had decided upon 
the University of California. Caroline doubted 
if she would ever forget the morning he called her 
into the office and laid the plans before her. 


14 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


“You want to go West,’^ lie said in Ms abrupt, 
yet kindly way. “I have decided upon California 
for several reasons; it has reputation; it is ac- 
cessible and the climate recommends it. You can 
live out of doors all winter and study in the sun- 
sMne. ’ ’ 

Preparations had begun almost immediately, 
for, as Jimmy Ludlow said, California was no re- 
specter of summer vacations, opening its doors 
early in August. 

There had been a round of parties after the an- 
nouncement, and one afternoon in early summer 
Caroline stood beside her mother, Leigh, and 
Mayre in the stately drawing-room (the Kirtley 
furniture and rare old paintings always gave it an 
atmosphere of dignity) and received friends in 
the prescribed and formal way of all Southerners. 

That had been a proud moment for Caroline. 
Miss Young had spent many hours over a billowy, 
white organdy made for the occasion, and friends 
and neighbors were generous with flowers and 
favors. It was very exciting to receive the 
Major’s bouquet, tiny rosebuds set in an old- 
fashioned paper holder. It went so beautifully 
with the quaint gown copied from a treasured 
blue satin heirloom of Grandmother RavenePs. 

She had not known that she was almost a replica 
of that beautiful and distinguished lady of the 
old South as she stood beside her mother, extend- 
ing her slim cordial hand in greeting, but the 
Major, passing through the hall and viewing her 
unaware, caught his breath and stopped to drink 


PREPARATIONS 15 

in the vision. His mother had been a vital force 
in his life, her memory was deeply enshrined in 
his heart. 

After the reception had come a few weeks of 
play, teas and dinners, picnics in the canons; 
excursions into the mountains, and now and then 
a scamper on Pinto’s shining back with Jimmy 
Ludlow. 

But Jimmy’s time was limited, even in the 
summer. The modest sign painted on an upper 
window of the National Bank building — James 
F. Ludlow, Attorney at Law” — proclaimed him 
a man of affairs. 

Caroline stood a little in awe of him. Most of 
her acquaintances were boys yet in college. 
Jimmy’s profession, and his mother’s proud tales 
of clients, gave him a herolike aspect as thrilling 
as it was alienating. She was just a bit afraid 
of him in his new role. He was so often serious 
and preoccupied when she talked of the latest 
dance or the frolics of her crowd. 

Punny Mathews was her greatest problem. 
Ever since the night at the Country Club when she 
had impersonated her timid sister, he had been 
her shadow. As the summer wore on he became 
more and more tiresome. In the cool evening 
dusk, when the family gathered with friends on 
the broad veranda, Punny arrived early and re- 
mained late. At the bare mention of a party his 
invitation barred others. The situation became 
unbearable. 

He was boresome and garrulous. One after- 


16 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


noon when he had been particularly obnoxious, 
Caroline leaned back in the deep veranda chair 
and proceeded to dream her dreams while he 
talked. 

Her mood irritated him. 

‘‘You aren’t turning into a daffodil again, are 
you?” he asked. 

The remark surprised her into a straighter 
posture. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You thought you put one over on me that 
night.” His bantering laugh rang out jarringly. 
“You didn’t fool me. Mayre wouldn’t have 
scrapped over the old colored woman as you 
did — ” 

Caroline’s answer cut the sentence. 

“Your discrimination did you credit. I am 
only surprised at your keeping the joke to your- 
self all this time.” 

“Oh, I say, now, that’s rather mean; I don’t 
tell all I know. I leave that to you girls.” 

The climax came on his return from a fishing 
trip a few weeks later. His homecoming was pre- 
ceded by a telegram which read: 

“Arriving this afternoon calling to-night save 
date.” 

It was noticeable that Caroline kept to her room 
most of the day. When Mayre knocked at her 
door in the early afternoon there was at first 
silence, then; 

“Sorry I can’t let you in, dear. I am busy 
doing something.” 


PREPARATIONS 


17 


‘‘Can’t I help you!” 

“No — thanks.” 

After dinner, Caroline again hurried upstairs. 
It was only when Maumy Rachel delivered Mr. 
Mathews’ card through the partially opened door 
that she ventured forth. Then she made sure that 
the hall was clear of curious eyes. 

As she entered the drawing-room, Punny rose 
with a gasp, then came forward, horror in his eyes. 

From head to foot Caroline was swathed in 
black, — solemn, awful black. In her hand she 
held one of her mother ’s black-bordered handker- 
chiefs which she pressed to her eyes touchingly. 

“I am so sorry,” Punny breathed tenderly. 
“I did not know of your loss. It must have been 
very sudden.” 

“On the contrary, it was expected.” 

She took a seat on the edge of a Kirtley heir- 
loom, her hands crossed demurely. Again she 
raised the dainty wisp of linen. 

“I think perhaps you do not quite understand, 
Punny. My loss has been of time — valuable 
time. It is your loss too. I am weeping for you 
as well as for myself — ” 

For once Punny ’s laugh was silenced. In 
solemn dignity (as befitted the occasion), he 
walked over to the rosewood piano, took up his 
hat, fitted it to his head, making sure in his be- 
wilderment that front was front, and made a 
hasty retreat. 

There had been but one shadow on Caroline’s 
otherwise perfect summer, — the departure of 


18 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


Madame Wakefield and Alf for England. The 
great house across the way was strangely silent. 
Shuttered windows seemed almost an affront 
when she passed. 

Caroline hurried over the memories of the part- 
ing with Madame and Alf. She did not care to 
linger upon them. Tears had glistened in the 
lovely old eyes of her friend when she kissed her 
good-by, tears that overflowed and ran down the 
apple cheeks without shame. 

And Alf — 

Caroline turned her thoughts away from a cer- 
tain evening in the upstairs sitting room when 
she and Alf sat looking at the portrait of his 
brother, Charles Feveral. The subject had 
turned to a man’s devotion. 

Color, faint as the bloom of a rose, traveled 
Caroline’s face and neck as she recalled that even- 
ing, — a glow that warmed her whole body, and 
made her clasp her hands in a gesture of de- 
spair. 

‘‘Oh, dear, why couldn’t it have been Mayre,” 
she said aloud, and stopped. 

“What’s that?” the Major asked, waking from 
his dreams. 

“Nothing — that is — I was thinldng out loud. 
Major. It’s a horrid habit. I must curb it at 
college. Things stir me up. You know — like 
the night I was so worried about dying. ’ ’ 

The Major’s laugh mingled with hers. He did 
recall that night, two years back. There had been 
rather a long silence at the dinner table, when 


PREPARATIONS 


19 


suddenly Caroline’s sobs rent tbe air. Startled, 
he reached over and laid a sympathetic hand upon 
hers. 

‘‘What is the matter?” he asked, alarmed. 

“Oh, I don’t know what ever’s going to become 
of me — of all of us — when we die!” Caroline 
agonized, amid the smothered laughter of her 
family. 

“You are not afraid of dying now? ’ ^ The ques- 
tion came with a slow smile. 

“No; I am more afraid of living, at present. 
The future seems wonderful but a little lonely. 
I won’t have you — Oh, Major,” she broke off 
suddenly, ‘ ‘ can you realize that I am going in just 
three days?” 

“Yes, the time is drawing near.” 

“Is there anything you want to say to me — 
anything special?” 

“The arrangements are all made.” 

“I don’t mean arrangements. Advice.” 

There was a long pause. When the Major 
spoke, his words came slowly, thoughtfully, as if 
they had long lain in his mind, unformed. 

“I trust you, Caroline.” 

It was a simple statement, forceful with mean- 
ing. “I shall expect you to hold to the ideals and 
standards your mother and I have tried to put 
before you. I hope that you will always be your- 
self, that you will never be ashamed of an honest 
conviction, or sell that conviction at the price of 
popularity. That is all — I think — ” 

“All, Major? It is everything! I shall try 


20 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


not to disappoint you. Do we stop here? Selah 
seems insistent.’^ 

The subject was not renewed when the Major 
returned from his call. Caroline, aroused from 
her dreams, was bright and chatty, and they 
reached home in the best of spirits. 


CHAPTER III 


A DEFERRED APPOINTMENT 

T T was exactly fifteen minutes before four when 
^ Jimmy Ludlow, handsome and immaculate in 
his white flannels, stepped from his smart runa- 
bout and rang the beU at the Ravenel residence. 

‘‘Miss Caroline,” he said to Maumy Rachel, 
who opened the door, “is she ready? We have an 
engagement. ’ ’ 

“Ready, Mr. Jimmy! DonT y’all know girls 
ainT never ready on time; but I^s gwine see fer 
you. ’ ’ 

She plodded up the stairs, looking back now and 
then to meet Jimmy ^s amused eyes. Presently 
Caroline’s sweet Southern drawl floated down. 

“You said a little before four, Jimmy; twenty 
minutes is a lot. But I ’ll forgive you, and hurry. ’ ’ 

The vision that greeted him some minutes later 
must have recompensed him for the wait, for a 
glow came into his eyes and a smile puckered into 
a low whistle. 

“Great! I suppose it was the new frock that 
took the extra time, but it was worth it ! ” 

“Yes, Mayre had to put in the last stitches; I 
am glad you like it. I wanted you to see some of 


22 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


the new things; goodness knows youVe had 
enough of the old.^^ 

“Don^t you know you always look well to me, 
Caroline 

Something in his tone made Caroline start. 
She met his glance shyly. 

‘‘Thank you, Mr. Lawyer, she laughed. 
“You^re mighty nice, too. I adore white flan- 
nels. ^ ^ 

Jimmy’s eyes followed her as she walked be- 
fore him to the car. The white kilted skirt, several 
inches above the low white oxfords (before the 
day of the ultra short skirt), the dainty, frilled 
waist and smart belted jacket belonged distinctly 
to Caroline ’s type. Jimmy was not slow to recog- 
nize the fact. They were soon out on the high- 
way, skimming over the white sandy road that 
skirted old Cheyenne. 

Jimmy was preoccupied. 

“Oh, but it’s heavenly to-day,” Caroline re- 
marked, securing her hat with an extra pin. 

The conversation was at first banal. Jimmy 
answered Caroline’s questions in monosyllables. 
It was after they had left the machine at the toll- 
gate and started up the crooked, woodsy path that 
led to the summit of the mountain that he shook 
otf the mood that had possessed him. 

“So you are leaving Friday?” he ventured. 

“Yes, Friday.” 

“I suppose you are glad?” 

‘ ‘Very — that is — with reservations. ’ ’ 

“And those?” 


A DEFERRED APPOINTMENT 23 


‘‘Leaving my family — and friends/^ 

They had reached the top and were standing on 
a prominence that overlooked the valley. 

“And all Caroline said, including the 

panorama. “You don’t know how I love it; the 
plains off there and the mountains. The 
mesa — ” 

At the word Jimmy turned and looked into her 
tawny eyes. 

“Yes, the mesa,” he said slowly. “I wanted to 
speak about the mesa.” 

Caroline dropped down on the ground and, 
gathering a handful of bluebells, arranged them 
with care and deliberation. 

“I am afraid,” Jimmy went on, “that we shall 
have to call oif our engagement for September 
the eighteenth since — since your university is so 
keen about opening in August.” 

“Yes, I thought of that.” 

“It will be but a postponement.” 

“Yes.” 

“Perhaps that is best, anyway, for a couple of 
years. ’ ’ 

Caroline nodded as she reached for a bunch of 
June grass. For two years, she agreed. 

“Perhaps we ought to make it July. You won’t 
be here in August.” 

“Probably not.” 

“All right. We’ll change the date — ” 

“Oh, no, please — ” 

“my not?” 

‘ ‘ Because — well — because the eighteenth is so 


24 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 

settled in my mind. I have thought of it for so 
long. ’ ’ 

^^Have you, Caroline?’’ 

^ ‘ Oh, heaps, Jimmy. ’ ’ 

‘^But you won’t be here in August — ” 

‘ * ^^0 knows ; leave* it, anyway. ’ ’ 

She held up the bouquet for inspection. ^‘Get 
me some columbines, won’t you, please. Over 
there. Major loves them. I want some for the 
office. ’ ’ 

He was scarcely back when she looked up in dis- 
may. ‘‘Why, it is raining,” she cried. “I felt a 
drop on my cheek — one of those big ones that 
mean mischief ! ’ ’ 

Jimmy pulled her from her low seat quickly. 

“We must hurry,” he said. “Lightning is ter- 
rific in these pines. ’ ’ 

Do^vn the crooked little path they went in haste, 
Jimmy ahead, Caroline slipping and sliding, hold- 
ing to his outstretched hand, laughing at his anx- 
iety. 

“I^d adore staying right up here and daring the 
old man,” she said, shaking her free hand toward 
the Peak, “only for my new suit.” 

The shower was coming down briskly when they 
reached the cabin at the tollgate; the keeper came 
out to greet them. 

“Better shinny in here quick,” he urged hos- 
pitably; “looks to me like a cloudburst.” 

For fifteen minutes the rain pelted and beat 
against the tiny log house; thunder crashed and 
the wind blew, lashing the pines with fury. Then, 


A DEFERRED APPOINTMENT 25 


suddenly as it had begun, the storm ceased. 
Clouds parted and the blue sky smiled. The sun 
peeped through. 

‘‘These rumpuses always make me think of 
people who storm and fuss and the next minute 
forget what it^s all about, Caroline laughed, 
picking her way daintily to the car. “There’s 
something so childish about Colorado’s moods. 
She sputters and fumes — and loves you all the 
while. ’ ’ 

Jimmy opened his mouth to speak, hut he held 
back the words. Instead, he bundled her into a 
motor coat and tried awkwardly to fasten it. 

Caroline found the evasive buttonhole and 
looked up saucily. 

“Nice old stupid!” she remarked, with a little 
moue. “Men never can button things — they al- 
ways go at it right-handed. I was telling Major 
just the other day that there were two things men 
never will understand: why women’s clothes but- 
ton to the left, and the use of a hairpin in the 
household. ’ ’ 

“A hairpinP’ 

“Yes; a hairpin is as good as a set of tools if 
one knows how to use it; it buttons shoes, cleans 
finger nails in emergency ; opens letters ; holds on 
buttons ; runs ribbon in things — to say nothing 
of its natural uses. I’ve always thought a monu- 
ment ought to be raised to the person who in- 
vented it; perhaps sometime I’ll undertake it.” 

She was running on a hit garrulously, and with 
definite purpose, Jimmy thought, giving her a 


26 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


side glance as lie knotted a yellow scarf about her 
throat, pulling out the loops with exaggerated 
care. 

The mesa was not mentioned again. After- 
ward, when she was alone in her room, Caroline 
fancied that they had both been rather eager to 
avoid it. She didnT quite know why. 

It was later that night when they were dancing 
together at the Country Club that they paused for 
a moment, straying out on the half-deserted ve- 
randa. The music followed them with a wave of 
sadness. 

wish that violinist wouldn’t wail so,” Caro- 
line said between a laugh and a sigh. ‘ ^ It makes 
me homesick. Did you ever hear of any one being 
homesick before leaving home, Jimmy?” 

‘ ^ Oh, yes, it can be done, ’ ’ he answered, as if his 
thoughts were miles away. 

‘Tt’s a horrid feeling.” 

‘ ^ I hope it stays with you. ’ ’ 

‘‘Oh, Jimmy!” 

“I don’t want you to be unhappy. I merely 
wish — ” 

He stopped suddenly. 

There was a whole minute’s pause, then: 

“What do you wish, Jimmy?” 

“Everything that counts for your happiness. 
Shall we finish now? You once liked to dance 
with me. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Once ! ’ ’ 

“Do you remember what you said to me that 
night — years ago — I have always carried 


A DEFERRED APPOINTMENT 27 

around a vision of a little girl with a patch on 
her nose.’’ 

‘‘Jimmy, please — ” 

“You said — tell me what you said, Caroline. 
You can’t have forgotten.” 

“That I could almost die dancing with you — 
what a limb of Satan I was. Maumy was furious. 
She scarcely spoke to me for a week ; said I was 
trying to capture Alison’s beaux. Oh, Jimmy> I 
am so sorry — this is Jorden Fielding’s one-step. 
Here he comes. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Are all your dances taken? ’ ’ 

“I am afraid they are.” 

‘ ‘ Good night. ’ ’ 

“You are not going, really?” 

“Really.” 

“ I ’ll see you to-morrow. ’ ’ 

“Probably.” 

A moment later, keeping up with Jorden ’s long 
college stride, she heard Jimmy’s motor chugging 
in the driveway and knew that he had gone. 

And Jimmy, skimming over the country road at 
an alarming pace, appeased his conscience with a 
manly defense; it wouldn’t have been fair. 

Over and over again the word burned itself into 
his heart — fair. 

For above everything else Jimmy Ludlow’s 
character pivoted on that; fairness. It had won 
the respect of his classmates at college. Put it 
up to Ludlow, they said, when there was need of 
an important decision. He’s fair. 

There was a light under Leigh’s door (for all it 


28 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


was past midnight) when Caroline returned home. 

Leigh, having stood in the place of mother to 
Caroline ever since Caroline could remember, al- 
ways waited to indulge in the breezy gossip that 
takes place in the wee small hours of the morning, 
— when the house boasts a debutante. 

To-night she had slipped on a comfortable rose- 
colored negligee and thrown herself on the couch 
to await Caroline’s coming. The room with its 
softly shaded light was cool and inviting. Caro- 
line stooped and kissed her sister’s expectant 
cheek before she threw oif her wrap. 

‘‘Dearest!” she exclaimed, sitting do^vn beside 
her. “Why do you wait up like this? It isn’t at 
all necessary.” 

“I wouldn’t miss hearing about the party for 
any thing. ’ ’ 

“Was Blair here?” 

“Yes, until eleven. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ The dear ! ’ ’ 

“I am so glad you love him, Caroline.” 

“I adore him.” 

‘ ‘ Did you have a wonderful time ? ’ ’ 

“Fine.” 

“Were the gowns pretty?” 

‘ ‘ Some. ’ ’ 

“Whom did you dance with — most?” 

It was the same loving interest that had gone 
on all summer. And after the details : 

“I’m starving, Leigh. It was one of those 
cake-and-punch affairs. Would Maumy be furi- 
ous if we raided the pantry?” 


A DEFERRED APPOINTMENT 29 


‘T made some sandwiches for you, dear. Wedl 
have them together. ’ ’ 

‘‘You darling! I’ll run down and bring them 
up.” 

As they ate they chatted; Leigh had almost 
finished Caroline’s packing; Miss Young had done 
splendidly with the frocks, they were quite ready; 
Mayre had filled a surprise box that was at the 
very bottom of the trunk and was not to be opened 
until Caroline was settled in her boarding house. 

Caroline listened in a dream; it was all so ex- 
citing. 

“And there was a letter from Alison this after- 
noon,” Leigh finished. “It is there on my desk.” 

Caroline opened it listlessly. 

“The last half is for you, dear.” 

Caroline turned the letter over and read aloud : 

“So our precious Caroline has grown up 
enough to go to college; dear me, it seems only 
yesterday that she was an infant following me 
about, borrowing my things and copying my 
clothes. Tell the dear child that I really wanted 
to send her something to take away with her, but 
I have been so busy that I couldn’t seem to find 
a minute ; there has been so much entertaining, 
and of course, in my position, I have my responsi- 
bilities. But I will have Abbie look over some of 
my (a word — it looked very much like “old” had 
been scratched out and “summer” substituted) 
things, and send them on to her. I understand 
that it is always warm in California and she could 
wear them there.” 


30 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


‘‘She needn’t bother,” Caroline flung and her 
face flushed. 

“But, dear, remember how lovely Alison’s 
things are; the chiffon she sent.” 

“I know — I don’t mind the things; it’s her 
everlasting condescension, her high-and-mighty 
attitude. Leigh, sometimes I almost hate Alison 
— I mean — don’t scold until I explain — I mean 
I hate the things she stands for: uselessness, 
selfishness — ” 

“But she has her charities. You know she 
wrote they had made her chairman of the hospital 
committee — ” 

“Yes, and what did she say — that it really 
didn’t take as much time as one would suppose, 
she had appointed such fine workers; that Tevis 
insisted upon her subscribing largely. Subscrib- 
ing!” Caroline’s scorn filled the room. “What’s 
writing a check! Anybody can do that who has 
a bank account. ’ ’ 

“By the way, there’s a letter from Tevis for 
you ; I put it on your dressing table. Good night ; 
run along now. You need your rest, and so do 

I.” 

Caroline had made herself comfortable in 
slippers and kimono before she broke the seal of 
Tevis McElroy’s letter. It was brief, but the con- 
tents brought a smile to her lips. 

“Dear little Sister,” it began. (Somehow 
Tevis always seemed closer than Alison.) “Ali- 
son tells me that you are off for California in a 
few days. Fine ! We hope that you will have a 


A DEFERRED APPOINTMENT 31 


splendid year, but that you will seek your Alma 
Mater in the East. Two years West, and two 
East, would be about right, donT you think? 
Alison has been so engaged for the past month 
with her various social functions that she tells me 
she has not found the time to send you anything 
for that glory box that accompanies every girl to 
college (having had sisters, I know), so I am en- 
closing a check. Please buy something you very 
much want, from both of us, and believe us more 
interested in your welfare than our silence would 
imply. ’ ’ 

Caroline opened the check wonderingly. The 
amount startled her; fifty dollars. Fifty dollars 
meant nothing to a millionaire, but to her, who 
had never in her life possessed more than ten dol- 
lars at a time, it seemed a fortune. 

She pattered across the hall and laid the pink 
slip in Leigh ^s hand. 

‘ ‘ And to think I was just scorning checks ! ’ ’ she 
apologized. Words are regular boomerangs, 
aren’t they? They fly straight back and hit you. 
Good night. I’m off this time. Sweet dreams.” 


CHAPTER IV 


OAKOLINE DEPAETS 

S AYING good-by was all that Caroline antici- 
pated — and more. She met the Major in 
the hall when she came down to breakfast and it 
seemed to her that his kiss was a little tenderer, 
his eyes more wistful. 

Maumy hovered over her at the table, proffer- 
ing waffles and honey, talking the while in short 
monosyllables. 

Y’all mus’ eat; good Lord knows when ydl git 
waffles again ; I made these here hermits ^special. 
Missy. ’ ’ 

^‘But I canT eat cake for breakfast, Maumy.’’ 
’Cose not, ’cose not, but these here ain’t 
cakes, they ’s cookies ; they ’s a heap a difference ; 
they goes good with coffee; an’ let Maumy run 
git you some more cream fer yer apple.” 

Mrs. Ravenel smiled through a mist of tears. 
Humor Maumy, if you can, dear; she’s old, 
you know, and a little childish. She is afraid 
you will not be properly nourished at college.” 

Caroline was glad when the time came to depart ; 
the strain was almost more than she could bear. 
There was a brief ten minutes with Major in the 


CAROLINE DEPARTS 


33 


office just before lunch, in which he had given her 
the particulars of her journey, and handed over 
her tickets with the remark : 

‘‘Upon arrival, you will go straight to your hotel 
where a room awaits you. The next morning you 
will see the dean of women and get a list of desir- 
able boarding places. ’ ’ 

“I understand perfectly. Major, I am so grateful 
to you for letting me make my own arrangements ; 
it simplifies every thing. ^ ^ 

Mrs. RavenePs instructions took longer. 

“I wish that your father had permitted some one 
to go with you, darling,’^ she said anxiously. “I 
do not like your traveling alone. I hope you 
realize how very necessary it is to be cautious in 
traveling; you must never speak to strange men, 
or permit them to address you. I remember a 
most annoying experience I once had as a young 
girl going to Richmond — 

“Yes, Mother dear, I know. Please donT 
worry. ’ ’ 

“And your tickets, Caroline; it is so unsafe to 
leave them in a handbag, though of course they will 
be taken up soon after you start ; the system is im- 
proved in that way. When I used to travel — 

“I know, dearest.’’ 

“ And your money; it is very unwise to keep it 
all in one place. ’ ’ 

“Major has given me express checks.” 

“I am not sure that is the best thing to do. 
Suppose you should lose them? What would you 
do, my dear child?” 


34 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


am not counting on losing them, Mother.’’ 

‘T think it would be wise to pin some money on 
you. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I have done that. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ There is one thing more. ’ ’ 

‘‘Yes?” 

“You are a Kirtley. Always remember that. 
The name carries obligation. For generations it 
has remained unstained — ” 

“Mercy, Mother, you don’t think I am going to 
disgrace it?” 

“No, Caroline; but you must choose your 
friends with care. Association means so much. 
My father. Captain Kirtley, a wise and just 
man, used often to say, ‘We must not only 
avoid evil, hut we must avoid the appearance of 
it.’ ” 

“I know; you have told me that many times.” 

“You are too young to know how blessed you 
are in your inheritance, darling, or what you your- 
self owe to posterity.” 

It was hard, too, to say good-by to Mayre ; look- 
ing back down the years of their Colorado child- 
hood, there had not been a night’s separation, 
though since Alison’s departure, Caroline had 
moved across the hall and Mayre had made the 
old room over into a cozy studio. 

It was an attractive place with sketches and 
easel, the colors blending and deepening to a vivid 
sea-blue; Mayre, picturesque in a bright orange 
smock, was quite as attractive as her surround- 
ings. 


CAROLINE DEPARTS 


35 


‘ ‘ I reckon it is about time to go, ^ ’ Caroline said, 
finding Mayre absorbed in a drawing. Work was 
always Mayre ’s panacea for depression. 

‘ ‘ So you are really off ! ’ ’ Mayre answered, and 
coaxed a smile to her trembling lips. 

‘‘You are going to the station! Mrs. Ludlow 
sent over the car. Hurry, please. ^ ^ 

Caroline scurried on to the kitchen to throw her- 
self into Maumy^s outstretched arms. Maumy, as 
usual, had risen to the occasion. 

“I ain’t gwine shed no tears, lil Miss No- 
Count,” she said, “no, ma’am. This here ole 
kitchen’s gwine to know the first peace hit’s known 
since we moved in. Ain’t nobody gwine empty 
my cooky jar — er cut into my fresh cake — ” 
“No — Caroline ’s going — exit the devil 1 ’ ’ 

The bubbling laugh filled the kitchen. 

“Seem lak de debil he’s been on a vacation long 
time now; once in awhile a little mule he creep 
in to take his place — ” 

“Oh, Maumy!” 

“But he don’t stay long; you gwine writ me 
from out thar, honey?” 

‘ ‘ Of course I am : reams ! ’ ’ 

“What’s reams?” 

“Heaps of pages.” 

“All right; gdong now; I ain’t got time to 
bother no more.” 

Maumy lifted her apron and made a pretense of 
shooing Caroline from the kitchen, but Caroline 
knew that the chuckling laugh was half a sob, the 
apron raised to hide tears. 


36 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


Her own eyes smarted as she ran down the 
front steps to the waiting car. 

There was little time at the station for fare- 
wells. After Caroline was in the train she had a 
hazy vision of the Major ^s pale face and kindly 
smile; her mother’s tears, shed behind a dainty 
lace handkerchief; of Leigh’s and Mayre’s kisses 
blown from the station house, of Jimmy’s gift of 
candy and roses. 

Then it all faded in a misty blur. She settled 
back in her seat and for a brief moment gave way 
to the emotion that battled in her breast. 

And at home : 

Dinner was a sad failure. Caroline’s chair, 
pushed under her accustomed place at the table, 
hhd a mournful air. Maumy’s flakey biscuits and 
tempting roast went back to the kitchen almost un- 
touched. 

^ ^ Seem lak, ’ ’ Maumy said to the stableboy who 
had come on from Virginia to care for the grounds 
and Selah, ^^seem lak some gret big hand reach ’n 
out and turn off all the light in this here ole house ; 
yes’er. Little Miss’s smile and that giggle o’ 
hern lit up the whole place. I wish she war back 
— debil and all ! ” 

The Major must have had much the same 
thought as he climbed the stairs to the tower room 
and closed the door upon the household. The 
place was in perfect order, a mute testimony to 
Caroline’s flight from childhood to womanhood. 
Before, its general state had been one of mild 
eruption. Now the desk was locked, the top swept 


CAROLINE DEPARTS 


37 


clean of ornament. The erstwhile motto and 
Jimmy dust-begrimed notice of an appointment 
lay at the bottom of the deepest drawer; books 
were carefully arranged in the neat case that ran 
between the south windows. The telescope, head 
down, had as dejected an air as Caroline's chair 
at the table. 

There was a deserted, forsaken atmosphere 
about everything. 

The Major ^s eyes traveled over each familiar 
object caressingly. Slowly the fact that Caroline 
had passed the borderland of little girlhood faced 
him. No more that mischievous, sunny face 
would turn from the battered desk at his knock; 
no longer, hand in hand, would they watch the sun 
sink behind the peak, leaving the old king bathed 
in splendor. Gone were the long tramps in the 
hills, — those confidential visits behind Selah, 
when she played ‘‘hitching post.’^ Caroline 
would only come home to visit, now — and with 
the stamp of maidenhood upon her. Life, un- 
yielding, indomitable, had put its world-old period 
after childhood. 

It was hours later that Leigh, needing her 
father on an important case, found him in the fast 
purpling twilight, his head bowed in his hands. 


CHAPTER V 


CAI.IFOENIA 

T he trip was long and tiresome ; but Caroline, 
reacting from fatigue with the invigorating 
ocean breeze that welcomed her on the coast, 
alighted from the train calm and expectant. 

According to instruction, she immediately tele- 
phoned to the hotel to see if the reservation had 
been held for her. It had, so, inquiring her way 
by street car, she set forth. 

One of Doctor RavenePs patients had recom- 
mended a quiet family hostelry, frequented by 
elderly people who had come to make California 
their home, and patronized also by a number of 
college students. Altogether a desirable and rep- 
utable place. 

It was a new experience to register, and then 
follow a pleasant-faced colored lad to the room 
above. It was not until he had put down her bags 
and wheeled in her trunk that a wave of loneliness 
crept over Caroline. 

She opened her closet door, took off her wraps, 
and hung them away neatly. Then she sat down 
in the old-fashioned, comfortable rocker placed 


CALIFORNIA 


39 


near the window and looked about. Her eyes 
swept the room, square and shabby, yet withal 
comfortable. 

am so glad I have to stay here, and not 
Mayre,’’ she sighed, taking in the ugly red wall 
paper that paled to a dusky pink as it climbed to a 
yellow ceiling; ‘‘it would drive her frantic.’’ 
The red carpet, clean, hut much the worse for 
wear, took on the same bold tones; even the red 
curtain that sheltered the basin with, its hot and 
cold water might have been dipped in the blood of 
many martyrs, so crimson was its hue. 

“Oh, well, what difference does furnishing 
make, ’ ’ Caroline thought, heaving a homesick sigh 
and winking back smarting tears. “I won’t be 
here more than a week or two. ’ ’ 

She got up and taking her clothing from the suit 
case, opened the drawers of the scarred oak 
bureau and laid away her blouses and linen. 
When she had finished she opened her trunk — 
the clumsy old leather ark that her mother had 
carried away to Briarly thirty years before — and 
got out her campus frocks and coats. When she 
had half filled the tiny closet she sat down again, 
her hands folded in her lap. 

The house was very still. Now and then the 
weary tones of a woman’s voice filtered through 
the open window in a Latin jargon quite beyond 
Caroline’s high-school attainment. Occasionally 
younger voices chimed in with questions; eager 
young voices, alert with interest. Farther down 
the court a typewriter clicked and raced ; now and 


40 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


then a man^s short, merry laugh came ringing 
across, the odor of a cigarette following. 

For some time Caroline sat, her ears strained 
toward the court. Now and then came a girPs 
flute-like voice raised in question. The teacher 
explained, then dropped back to her monotonous 
reading. 

Presently there was a quick step down the hall. 
A key rattled in the lock next door, a window was 
flung wide, a shade adjusted, and a merry whistle 
broke into song. Caroline caught the words. 
They stormed the thin partition : 

So, then it’s up with the Blue and Gold — down with 
the Eed, 

California’s out for a victory . . . 

Down on the Stanford Farm they ’ll make no sound 

When our ^^Oski” rips through the air. 

Like our friend Mr. Jonah, Stanford’s team will be 
found 

In the tummy of the Golden Bear. 


Caroline listened to each clear note with rising 
interest. Her lips broke in a smile. Between the 
scraping of a chair, or the opening of a drawer, 
the words were dropped, but the tune went on in 
a merry whistle. The chorus came back again 
and again : 

Like our friend Mr. Jonah, Stanford’s team will be 
found 

In the tummy of the Golden Bear. 


The song ceased for a moment and Caroline 


CALIFORNIA 


41 


heard the scratching of a match and the sharpen- 
ing of a pencil ; then the tune went on. 

The whistle began taking all sorts of liberties 
with the refrain; it introduced trills and varia- 
tions. Sometimes it rose clear and vibrant, 
dwindling to a scarcely audible and breathy gasp. 
Again it stopped, and a disgusted ^ ‘ Can you beat 
that, now!’’ took its place, accompanied by the 
scratching of another match. 

The work must have grown more interesting on 
the other side of the door, for after awhile the 
tune stopped altogether and the click of a type- 
writer succeeded it. Then the typewriter stopped 
and the door slammed. Once more the key turned 
in the lock. 

Caroline looked at her watch. It was half -past 
five. 

‘‘I’ll just have time for a little walk before 
dinner,” she thought, and donned her coat and 
hat. In the ofiice she paused for information. 

“The campus — is it far away?” she asked the 
pleasant-faced woman at the desk who smiled and 
called her Miss Ravenel, a polite attention that 
warmed Caroline’s lonely heart. 

It was not far, in fact, less than a block away. 
The street was full of young people hurrying 
in every direction. Caroline stopped just outside 
the door to watch them. On they hurried, alone 
and in groups, merry girls with good-looking 
youths. Most of the women were hatless, coat- 
less, save for brilliant sweaters or gay wool 
scarves, the fringed edges fiying in the breeze. 


42 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


Caroline started up the street feeling a little 
conspicuous in the tailored suit which had been 
cut first for Alison, and later remodeled for her. 
The girls she passed were in no such formal attire. 
Their pleated skirts, smart sweaters, or jersey 
jackets gave them a jaunty, care-free look. 

For a moment she was tempted to turn back 
and array herself in a brovm serge skirt and 
orange sweater, but on second thought she went 
on. The groups she passed were too intent upon 
greeting old acquaintances to notice her. 

Without difficulty she found the wide, hospitable 
gate that opened to the campus. It had a friendly 
look and she passed its portal with a kindly stare. 
It was her gate now, the entrance to a new, ex- 
citing world. 

The curving path to the right led to green ris- 
ing ground. Caroline took the gentle slope 
leisurely, feasting her gaze upon the buildings, the 
ample grounds. As she reached the campanile, 
an imposing tower, a silvery shower of chimes 
broke above her. She stopped to listen, thinking 
more of the music of the bells than of the time. 
It was a rhythmic, yet compelling sound, breaking 
into the evening stillness with authority. 

Two girls passed. She heard one say, ^‘Six 
0 ’clock ! Where has this day gone ! Meet you at 
the oak in the morning. Good-by. ’ ’ 

Reluctantly she retraced her steps, lagging a 
little as she sighted the hotel. She dreaded the 
loneliness of the shabby red room with its faded 
walls and worn carpet. 


CALIFORNIA 


43 


At the door she paused for a last lingering 
glance into the street. Turning suddenly, she 
came in violent contact with a young man evi- 
dently bound in her own direction. She stepped 
back in embarrassment. 

‘‘I beg your pardon. Stupid of me! I was 
watching some friends up the street.^’ 

‘‘So was I,’^ Caroline answered, giving him 
smile for smile. “Not friends exactly — I was 
interested in the people.’^ 

“Yes; they’re flocking in now; the old town’s 
full I ’ ’ 

He put his gray tweed cap under his arm and 
opened the door for her. 

In the glare of the office lights she gave him 
a sidelong glance. Her mental comment was, 
“My, but he’s good-looking!” His, though Caro- 
line would scarcely have understood: “Some 
little knockout ! ’ ’ 

The elevator left them at the same floor. With 
a slight acknowledgment of their chance meeting, 
he hurried on. Halfway down the hall he stopped 
and fitted his key in a lock, but before it turned, 
he burst into an energetic whistle. 

Caroline waited until he had closed his door, 
then smilingly opened the one beyond. 

“ So !” she commented below her breath, “that’s 
Mr. Jonah!” 

Just what Mr. Jonah’s whistle had to do with a 
rather hurried search through the ark (it was 
always called that in the family) for an organdy 
frock, was not quite clear, even to Caroline herself. 


44 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


but sometbing bad proved an inspiration. Tbe 
tailored suit was relegated to tbe closet. 

“One feels so much less lonely if one dresses for 
dinner,’’ sbe declared to ber pricking conscience, 
as sbe emerged from a refreshing sbower in tbe 
dreary scrap of a batb and attacked a shining mass 
of wavy hair; “not that anyone will in tbe least 
care bow I look, — unless perhaps it might be one 
of those dear old ladies in tbe lobby.” 

Tbe hair was neat at last, each defiant hook on 
tbe lacy ruffled blouse coaxed into place. Tbe 
exertion of hastening ber toilet bad brought a 
ruddy glow to ber cheeks, a sparkle to tbe topaz 
eyes. Sbe gave a saucy, backward glance toward 
tbe mirror. 

“I reckon, as Maumy says. I’ll get past a crowd 
and escape tbe ragpickers,” sbe laughed, and 
quietly locking ber door, rang for tbe elevator. 

It was not until tbe colored waiter bad drawn 
out her chair and seated ber comfortably at a 
single table at tbe very end of tbe long dining 
room that sbe had the courage to look about. 
Tbe sight that met ber eyes was not exciting. 
Tbe room was filled largely with elderly men 
and snowy-haired women. Now and then an oc- 
casional girl lifted ber eyes from consomme or 
chicken, and directed ber remarks to a goggled 
youth, or a solemn-eyed professor slipped into a 
near-by seat and buried bis nose in a musty look- 
ing volume. 

Caroline gave ber attention to tbe menu. It was 
a new and rather interesting experience to order. 


CALIFORNIA 


45 


It took some minutes to decide between lamb and 
beef, cocoanut pie and ice cream. She had daintily 
dipped her fingers in the glass bowl that the waiter 
put before her and signed a card according to his 
instructions when she took another look over the 
room. The aspect had not changed materially. 
The group of elderly women was augmented by 
several girls who had filled vacant places. 

She went straight to her room. As she stepped 
from the elevator she heard a commotion in the 
hall near her own door. A porter was moving a 
trunk and Mr. Jonah’s musical voice called, 
^‘Send her over to the Fraternity house, George; 
you know the number. We got a cook to-day and 
I’m leaving your joint. Catch!” 

A coin spun through the air, lodging in George ’s 
cupped hands. Mr. Jonah dodged back into his 
room and Caroline entered hers. 

The next hour was not pleasant to contemplate, 
even in retrospect. The house had settled to its 
nightly quiet. Across the court a wheezy voice 
recited a tale of cold and rheumatism ; downstairs 
a piano sounded, faint and mournful ; Caroline rec- 
ognized Muriel Roach’s masterpiece; ^‘The Last 
Hope.” 

Homesickness, so long repressed, welled in her 
heart. She went over to the bed and selecting one 
of the snowy pillows buried her face in it. 

‘Hf I’m going to have a downpour, I might as 
well make myself comfortable,” she thought with 
characteristic humor. 

And then the storm broke ! 


CHAPTER VI 


THE CAMPUS 

T here was stni a pink flusli about the hazel 
eyes the next morning, but a dash of cold 
water and a bit of talcum powder covered the tell- 
tale marks of the night ^s surrender to homesick- 
ness. 

am glad I took that walk last evening for I 
know exactly what to wear, ’ ’ Caroline thought, as 
she dressed in the pleated skirt and soft old gold 
sweater. 

It must have been extraordinarily becoming, 
for many heads turned to watch the alert, slender 
figure as it passed. Following the common rule 
she wore no hat, and the thick Kirtley hair, 
dressed with extra care, showed to unusual ad- 
vantage. 

Remembering her father’s injunction, ‘^straight 
to the dean of women,” she turned her footsteps 
in her direction. The room was crowded. She 
took her place in line and waited patiently while 
the dean, with remarkable expedition, answered 
the questions of the horde before her. 

list of boarding places, please,” Caroline 
said, when she at last stood before the desk. 



Many heads turned to watch the alert, slender figure 

as it passed. Page 46. . 







» 



r 



4 





A 





r 


I 




f 


• • • 


> 





* 





4 









I 



• « 


■« 


» 


> 


i»t 




( 



t 





& 


-i" 




9 


A 




» 


ft 


% 


$ 


-N 



f 

0 


r . 


-: r 




f 


-* * 

■‘ r 

t 

* 

V 

■t • 


I 


k 



t 


■ 


• • 


r* 



ft 



V • 


r 


» > 



t 


*• 




t . 




I 


» 


*■.» • 

ft i 


«' 


'■. •• • i 


. • 


% 

1 


I 



r 


» , 


'V 



. » 

«- 


•t. 


4 

> 


.r- 


t 






«• • 

•«« 


7t 


t 


1 





ff 

I 



THE CAMPUS 4r 

The low, well modulated voice attracted instant 
attention. 

‘‘A Freshman, Miss — 

‘ ‘ Ravenel — Caroline Eavenel. ’ ’ 

‘‘You are just entering P’ 

The conversation was mere routine. Caroline 
asked as few questions as possible, and went out 
with the list tucked carefuUy away in the depths 
of her sweater pocket. 

It was hours before she thought of it again. 
She was standing on the steps of a beautiful white 
building, her brows drawn together in a puzzled 
frown. In her hand she held the list of addresses, 
each just so much Greek to her alien eyes. 

“How on earth am I going to find these streets,’^ 
she thought, and at the same moment almost lost 
her equilibrium through a violent push from some- 
where behind her. She reached for a couple of 
books that she had acquired in the day’s travels 
and turned slowly. 

‘ ‘ Oh, I do beg your pardon, ’ ’ a clear voice was 
saying apologetically, “I was so stupid. Let me 
help with those books. You see, I had just turned 
to run after my history prof, and I didn’t see 
you.” 

“You are quite excusable, I am sure. I wasn’t 
looking either, so I am equally at fault. Please 
don ’t mind. There isn ’t a particle of harm done. ’ ’ 

For a moment they stood looking into each 
other’s eyes, both laughing. The stranger put out 
her hand. Caroline took it, snuggling into its 
warm grasp. 


48 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


‘‘Freshman, I fancy 

“Yes, how did yon know?^’ 

“We all have that bewildered, don’t-care-if-I- 
live-or-die look at first. I have many times 
thought iCs just the way angels must appear in 
heaven. ’ ’ 

Again they laughed. 

“Could I help you in any wayT’ 

“You could tell me how to find these boarding 
places. I haven ^t the slightest idea where to go, 
or what car to take. ’ ’ 

“You poor infant The word came with such 
motherly kindness that Caroline choked back tears. 
“Let me see — Haste Street — you go out this 
gate and follow your nose straight ahead for three 
blocks, then turn to your left and go three more. 
Nice location. Haste, lots of Sorority houses over 
there — Wait a minute! Is it a room you are 
looking for?’’ 

“Yes — room and board.” 

The girl gave Caroline an appraising glance be- 
fore she spoke. 

“I happen to know of a rather nice place — in 
quite the other direction — neighborhood not so 
smart, perhaps, but good. It’s where I live. 
There was a room this morning. Chances are it’s 
gone now. Everything is full up. I’m afraid 
you are going to have a bad time.” 

Caroline’s eyes had not been idle. She had 
taken in the clear-cut features of the tall, attractive 
girl before her, instantly deciding that she liked 
her. 


THE CAMPUS 


49 


‘ ^ May I ask your name I ’ ’ she ventured. ‘ ‘ Mine 
is Caroline E-avenel. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I Margaret Mackintosh. ^ ^ 

‘Tt sounds protecting — Mackintosh/’ Caroline 
stammered, her bubbling laugh mingling with the 
deeper tones of the older girl’s. 

‘‘It’s Scotch.” 

“I’m from the South — or my people were — 
Virginia. ’ ’ 

“Yes, I know.” 

“How?” 

‘ ‘ By your vowels. Nobody in the West caresses 
them. ’ ’ 

“Do I?” 

“Do you — you emboss them; wrap them in 
velvet. ’ ’ 

“Thank you. I suppose you mean that for a 
compliment. ’ ’ 

“Would you care to see the room?” 

“May I?” 

“I’m going there now. Come along. ’ ’ 

It was not far, a matter of four or five blocks. 
“Just a good walk,” Margaret declared. “You 
are always ready for lunch after climbing the hill. 
But perhaps you don’t like hills.” 

“I adore them. I wish you could see ours at 
home. In Colorado. We live there now. We 
moved on account of my father’s health.” 

“I see. It must be wonderful. You have snow, 
don’t you?” 

“Snow! Oh, yes.” 

“I’ve never seen snow,” Margaret admitted. 


50 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


‘‘You’ve never seen snow!” Caroline’s eyes 
opened in surprise. 

“Never. I have always wondered what it felt 
like coming down on you. Does it strike hard, 
make you dodge or anything?” 

Again Caroline’s laugh bubbled. 

“Mercy, no! It comes in little flakes, soft 
fluttery flakes that sting your cheeks, and stick 
on to your eyelashes, and frolic down your coat 
collar. ’ ’ 

Margaret’s gray-green eyes were pools of light. 

“I should love it,” she said. “Here we are. 
The white house with the hydrangeas, ‘ Sign of the 
Tubs ’ the girls call it. ’ ’ 

To Caroline’s great disappointment, the room 
was gone. Taken but an hour before. 

Margaret too seemed disappointed. For a 
moment she was lost in thought. “I’ll tell you,” 
she said, and stopped. 

‘ ‘ Tell me what ? ’ ’ 

“I was just thinking. Come upstairs a min- 
ute. ’ ’ 

At the end of the hall she threw open a door and 
raised a window blind. 

“Look here first,” she said, waving toward the 
window. “We don’t have snow in California, 
but we have — that ! ’ ’ 

For a moment Caroline stood speechless. It 
was her first glimpse of the sea. 

“And now if you are through feasting — it is a 
feast, isn’t it, that water — you may look at the 
room. It just happens that my roommate was 


THE CAMPUS 


51 


called home this morning — a sudden death — 
poor Jean. Perhaps iCs rather ridiculous on such 
very short acquaintance, please feel quite frank 
about refusing, but if you like — 

Caroline glanced at the square, hospitable room 
and gave a little cry of joy. 

‘‘You mean that you would have me — take me 
inP’ 

“Yes, I think so. The Scotch in me says ‘be a 
little careful.’ You must be careful, too. You 
don’t know what you are getting into. We’ll leave 
it this way : see the dean about it and I will, too ; 
she doesn’t make many mistakes.” 

“When could I see her?” 

“Not before morning, I fancy. Unless — it is 
just possible you might catch her if you hurry.” 

“And if she says ‘yes’ — ?” 

‘ ‘ Move right in. I must have somebody. I pre- 
fer to choose — rather than be chosen.” 

The dean’s remarks were straight and to the 
point. “Margaret Mackintosh? I congratulate 
you. Miss Eavenel. There are few girls on the 
campus so worth while. ’ ’ 

The next few days were so busy that there was 
little time to get acquainted. In fact, Caroline 
and Margaret were scarcely ever in the room at 
the same time, except, perhaps, a half-hour before 
dinner. In the evening they started off to the 
library together, where they sat quietly in their 
places at one of the long tables, oblivious to sur- 
roundings. 

The room, from the first, delighted Caroline. 


52 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


Tt was large and airy, with two wide windows to 
the west. The twin beds had been separated, one 
removed to the extreme left of the room, the other 
to the right. At the side of each stood a small 
table with a reading lamp upon it, and at the foot 
a neatly covered box, suitable for shirt waists and 
linen. There were also two small dressing tables 
painted white, with cretonne scarfs that matched 
the box coverings. There were two comfortable 
rocking chairs, and two straight smaller ones; 
a writing desk painted white, old and a little 
wabbly, and a large closet plentifully supplied 
with hooks and hangers. 

Caroline’s first glance into the closet gave her 
something of a shock. Margaret’s wardrobe oc- 
cupied the smallest possible space. In fact it con- 
sisted of a suit, a raincoat, an afternoon gown of 
a dark, nondescript color, two blouses and a winter 
hat. 

‘‘Please don’t give me all the closet,” she said 
to her roommate, thinking the space had been 
cleared for her. 

“I haven’t,” Margaret answered. “I have all 
the room I need. My gowns are my least con- 
sideration. One can’t bother much with a ward- 
robe when one’s a senior. Who’d do the mending 
and the fussing and the brushing?” 

“I am afraid you will think I am terribly frivo- 
lous when I unpack the ark,” Caroline answered. 
“But my sisters arranged my clothes. They 
selected what they thought I should have.” 

She was rather glad to shove the blame of too 


THE CAMPUS 


53 


much ‘‘fixing’’ upon Leigh and Mayre. Marga- 
ret’s simple austerity seemed to demand excuses. 

On Saturday, Caroline disgorged the ark. Mar- 
garet came home to find the room a cross between 
a bazaar and a bargain counter. 

“I am not going to put all these things out,” 
Caroline explained apologetically, “my sister put 
in a surprise box — ” 

“How lovely!” 

“I suppose she thought we’d like afternoon tea 
occasionally, and fudge and things. ’ ’ 

“We would.” 

“And these photographs. This is the Major. 
Don’t you want to look at him?” 

Margaret took the framed photograph in her 
hands and stood for a moment lost in thought. 

“What a remarkably fine face,” she said after 
awhile. Caroline turned quickly. 

“Oh, thank you for saying that! I think he’s 
splendid. So do most people. A little stern may- 
be — in the picture — but when you know him 
that melts — except when we disobey. Major 
never has to speak but once.” 

“I can fancy that.” 

“This is Mother — and the girls.” She took 
out the other photographs. Leigh’s wistful face 
brought a quick, “Oh, how sweet!” from Mar- 
garet, and Mayre ’s artistic profile, “What an 
adorable girl!” “And your Mother, how placid 
she seems, really tranquil. Who is this elegant 
person?” 

Caroline turned again. 


54 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


‘ ‘ My married sister — Alison. ^ ^ 

‘‘She’s very stunning.” 

“Yes.” 

“And who in the world is this?” 

‘ ‘ That — oh, that’s my old darkey mammy ‘ what 
brung me up — often!’ Maumy’s something like 
the little girl with the curl; when she’s nice, she’s 
awful, awful nice. Are you going to mind if I 
hang these pictures up — on my own side, of 
course. I’d sort of like to have them around — 
the Major, anyway.” 

‘ ‘ Of course you must hang them. I ’ll help you. 
But I won’t promise to dust for you. Where will 
you have Mammy?” 

“We call her Maumy — I don’t just know why. 
Over here for the present, on my dresser. I am 
so accustomed to her eagle eye that I think I’d 
best have her round to keep me straight.” 

It took some time to hang the frocks. Margaret 
was so interested. Each must be inspected and 
admired. It was when she said, “You must have 
very indulgent parents to equip you so beauti- 
fully,” that Caroline’s native honesty came to 
surface. 

“I’ll tell you a secret,” she said. “My mar- 
ried sister is quite — well — comfortably otf — 
and she gives me a great many things. Leigh is 
very clever about making them over. She always 
helps the seamstress and Mayre designs every- 
thing. ’ ’ 

“My dear, you needn’t explain all this.” Mar- 
garet’s Scotch reticence floated surfaceward. 


THE CAMPUS 


55 


‘ ‘ But I want you to know. You ’ll think it funny 
after awhile, when you see how I have to save and 
economize. ’ ’ 

‘ ^ I shall understand. ’ ’ 

The words, given in an abrupt, oif-hand way, 
spoke volumes. It was as if Margaret had said, 

‘ ‘ My means are very limited. I have almost noth- 
ing to spend. ’ ’ 

The room began to clear. The frocks were put 
away, the pictures hung, the round center table 
placed before one of the windows and equipped 
with an electric chafing dish and several dainty 
cups and saucers. The spotless white cover gave 
it an appetizing appearance, Margaret said. She 
could scarcely wait to make tea. 

‘‘Let’s do it now, then,” Caroline insisted, div- 
ing into the surprise box. 

Mayre had provided a delectable array : Chinese 
tea, such as Leigh loved to use on company days ; 
dozens of Maumy’s ginger cookies; even jam care- 
fully wrapped and packed. 

The party proved a bond. There is something 
about the breaking of bread together that promotes 
friendship. Margaret, sitting cross-legged on the 
floor, supped her tea leisurely. 

Caroline watched her as she rose and put her cup 
on the table. For all her clothes were plain, she 
wore them with an air. There was a savor of 
aristocracy about her, as if the spirit of number- 
less Scots, purposeful and true, dwelt within her. 

There was a half-hour’s chat as they washed 
the cups and put away the cookies and jam. A 


56 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 

corner of the wide closet made an excellent 
larder. 

Later that same evening Caroline ^s second social 
experience came. She had taken her accustomed 
place in the library, her books open before her. 
Reaching up to adjust the small table light, she 
found it was not in working order. With an im- 
patient, ^ ‘ Oh, bother ! ’ ’ she tried again. She was 
about to move her seat when a voice at her el- 
bow inquired, ‘‘May I be of service! These 
lights seem to have ideas of their own about 
illumination. ^ ^ 

Caroline lifted her eyes — and looked straight 
into those of Mr. Jonah. 

He answered her smile with one quite as 
friendly. 

“Think weVe met before,’’ he ventured. 

“Yes — sort of a — forced acquaintance.” 

“I hope the blow wasn’t that bad.” 

“I didn’t mind. The next morning I met my 
roommate in the same way. It seems to be the 
proper mode here. ’ ’ 

Mr. Jonah took the bulb from his own light and 
inserted it in the one just above Caroline’s head. 
It also refused to burn. A laugh went around the 
table. Caroline’s cheeks flamed. He crossed the 
room, coming back with a new bulb. 

Toward the end of the hour Margaret whispered, 
“I am going to leave you now. I have an errand 
before I go home. Think you can manage to find 
your way alone? A lot go that way.” 

“Oh, yes; don’t mind about me.” 


THE CAMPUS 


57 


Perhaps Mr. Jonah heard. At any rate, as they 
left the library, he wall^ed beside her. Ont in the 
starlight he took her books. ^‘May I stroll along 
with you r ^ he asked. 

Caroline couldn’t be rude. ‘Tf you go my 
way,” she answered. 

Mr. J onah did not commit himself. 

Out in the road the conversation developed 
naturally. When they reached the white house 
with its tubs of hydrangeas, Caroline felt that 
she had known the tall, kindly youth beside her 
for a long time. He was extremely likable. 
Pausing at the foot of the veranda steps, she 
looked up into his brown eyes mischievously. 

‘^Goodnight, Mr. Jonah,” she said. 

^‘Why Mr. JonahP’ 

‘‘That’s what I heard you singing in the room 
next to me the night I arrived. I shall always 
think of you as that.” 

“But I have a name — an honest-to-goodness 
one. ’ ’ 

“Don’t tell me.” 

‘ ‘ All right. If I must be a Jonah. ’ ’ 

A laugh stopped the sentence. He turned away, 
and then came back. 

“Perhaps I am a little presumptuous — I hope 
you won’t think so, but — I wonder if I could get 
a date. I ’d like to come over and bring Emma. ’ ’ 

Caroline seemed puzzled. 

“I would like to meet her, but — don’t you think 
we should first be introduced?” 

Mr. Jonah scratched his handsome, near-kinky 


58 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 

head. Maybe we had. I’ll try and arrange 
that to-morrow, ’ ’ he said. 

It was late that night, after Margaret had turned 
out the lights, that Caroline ventured a question. 

^‘Do you know that nice young man that fixed 
my light in the library?” 

‘^Yes, slightly.” 

‘‘Is he nice?” 

“He’s what the girls call a ‘knockout.’ ” 

“What’s that?” 

“Very attractive. One of the big guns on the 
campus. Football captain. ’ ’ 

“But is he all right — a gentleman?” 

“He goes with the nicest girls,” came the an- 
swer followed by a yawn. “Yes, I admire Bidell 
Webster immensely. His father’s money hasn’t 
made a fool of him. That’s more than you can 
say for a lot of the fellows here. Think I’ll say 
good night. I have an eight o ’clock, in the 
morning. ’ ’ 

For a long time after Margaret’s steady breath- 
ing indicated sleep, Caroline lay thinking. 

And at home, at the foot of the old Peak, 
Caroline’s family lived and breathed and waited 
for her letters. They came frequently, colored 
with the old sparkle, alive with gossip and ad- 
ventures. Sometimes the Major took the dinner 
hour to read them at the table, so that all might en- 
joy them together. Maumy often lingered in the 
background, her ears strained, her eyes bulging 
with surprise or indignation. Occasionally, ex- 
citement betrayed eavesdropping. 


THE CAMPUS 


59 


‘‘Caroline writes that she has her course quite 
straight now and is hard at work/^ the Major in- 
terpolated one evening, before reading farther. 
“I must confess that I can’t quite see the need of 
taking up Anthropology — ” 

“What is that?” Mayre interrupted. Mayre 
was not a student. 

“The science of man, my dear child,” the Major 
answered. “Nor any special benefit in Ento- 
mology — ” 

“What on earth is Entomology?” Leigh ques- 
tioned. 

“The department of zoology that treats of bugs 
and insects.” 

*^Bugs!^^ The word came like the crack of a 
whip. “Bugs, Marse Major; For the love 
o’Gord, ain’t Miss Car ’line got ’nuff to do out 
yander ’thout pickin’ on bugs — and insecs!^^ 

The scorn in Maumy’s tones sent the family 
into peals of laughter. 

“Seem lak sceerce as money am now-days peo- 
ple done gone crazy payin’ out to learn ’bout bugs. 
Bugs ’nutf here in this Gord-forsaken country!” 

“And she thinks she will take up orchard spray- 
ing,” the Major went on, a twinkle in his eyes. 
“Perhaps she can revive your old peach tree in 
the spring, Mayre, with her acquired knowledge. 
She also refers to a course called Oriental — 
something Japanese, I take it.” 

Mrs. Eavenel dismissed Maumy, before remark- 
ing: 

“It looks as if Caroline had lost her head. Doc- 


60 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


tor. I am quite distressed. When I was a girl, 
we studied literature and deportment, followed by 
domestic science.’’ 

The Major’s eyes danced with mirth. 

‘^Your daughter is feasting at present,” he 
comforted. ^‘She has been led to a banquet, and 
her selection is a little rich. The only danger is 
scholastic indigestion. Wait until the cramps of 
examination attack her. Give her time. ’ ’ 

‘T do hope she won’t over-do.” Leigh seemed 
troubled. 

^^One would scarcely infer that to be the case 
from this,” the Major went on: 

^‘Life at college is wonderful and exciting. 
Margaret and I are quite settled in our room and 
get on very well together, though we really see 
but little of each oth6r. She is a fine, high-minded 
type of girl, one Mother would altogether approve 
of, for she has a Scotch reticence that is quite 
Kirtley in its oblivion — that is, she drops a cur- 
tain between her affairs and the world, and keeps 
it down most of the time. Occasionally one gets 
a peek. I did manage to find out (without seem- 
ing or feeling curious) that her mother is a widow 
and they have a little cottage they call a ‘‘lodge” 
down by the sea — forty miles away — and that 
it isn’t just the easiest thing in the world for her 
to remain here. At present she has a scholar- 
ship (six hundred dollars a year) which helps a 
very great deal. She graduates this year and 
then, if possible, wants to go on with a law course, 
but that is indefinite. She may have to teach for 


THE CAMPUS 


61 


a few years and earn the money. Oh, dear, Major, 
why is it that people like the Briggs have so much 
money they don’t know what to do with it, and 
poor Margaret — but I mustn’t stop to moralize, 
for I have a theme paper to hand in at eight 
o’clock in the morning and it’s eleven p.m. this 
minute. In my next letter I will tell you about 
the girls in the house, and also of a nice young 
man with splendid looking shoulders and a natural 
marcel that he tries (unsuccessfully) to defeat 
with water and hard brushing. He walked home 
from the Libe the other night (see the list of 
college slang I have appended — one just has to 
fall in line and use it here or be a prig) and took 
me for a drive with a dashing young thing called 
Emma — more of her later. Also, more of my in- 
structors at another time. Oh, yes, I almost for- 
got to tell you : you may think the orchard spray- 
ing and hug study a little queer, but it is rather 
your own fault. Major, for being a Bavenel. Oc- 
casionally a course goes alphabetically; if a class 
fills up on A. B. C’s the R’s get Hobson’s choice. 
See? I should have preferred more English, but 
couldn’t make it this semester. The other sub- 
jects I chose.” 

The Major folded the letter and returned it to 
his coat pocket. 

‘‘Will you convey Caroline’s apologies to 
Maumy, Leigh, and explain about the bugs,” he 
asked, the twinkle deepening in his eyes. “She 
will rest better to-night if she knows. She’s in- 
clined to think Caroline’s ‘debil’ is rampant.” 


62 


CAROLUNTE AT COLLEGE 


‘‘And may I inquire what the child means by 
walking home from the LibeT’ Mrs. Ravenel 
asked plaintively. 

The Major got out the letter and ran his eye 
over the appended slang. 

“Libe/^ he read, his finger following the long 
list of words. “Libe : the Library where we go to 
study. ’ ^ 

“Thank you, Doctor.’’ 

“Would you care to hear the whole list? It is 
rather interesting and constructive.” 

“I think not. I am content to remain a purist, 
despite the present urge of education.” 

“We shall have to remember that Caroline is 
trying to fit in with her own generation — ” the 
Major remarked softly, “and grant her the 
privilege. ’ ’ 

“But there are bounds. Doctor.” 

“She will not exceed them.” 


CHAPTER VII 


BIDDY AND EMMA 

I T was several days after the event in the library 
that Caroline again met Biddy Webster. He 
was crossing from one building to another, but he 
stopped to acknowledge Margaret ^s how and Caro- 
line’s hesitating smile. 

‘‘You know Mr. Webster, don’t you, Caroline?” 
Margaret said, making the introduction easily. 
‘ ‘ If you don ’t, you should. ’ ’ 

Biddy’s hand went out graciously. 

“Delighted, Miss Ravenel,” he said, his eyes 
reflecting the smile that appeared in Caroline’s. 

“We — we sort of know each other,” he re- 
marked pleasantly; “not a real bona fide acquaint- 
ance ; just passing, one might say. ’ ’ 

Margaret hurried on. Biddy, despite his evi- 
dent hurry, lingered for a moment. 

“Going to be busy after three o’clock?” he 
asked. 

“No — not particularly. ’ ’ 

“Could I meet you down at the gate? I’ll have 
Emma. ’ ’ 

It was “Emma” that won the privilege. Caro- 
line was a little curious 


64 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


She found him at three, waiting for her, his ex- 
pectant eyes turned in her direction. 

‘‘Emma’s down the road. They won’t let her * 
come on the campus, ’ ’ he remarked, as he took her 
books and swung into step beside her. 

“Won’t let her?” 

“No — she’s been expelled.” 

“Expelled!” Caroline’s steps halted. 

“But she’s a dandy old girl, for all that. Don’t 
form your opinion until you see her. Emma 
always pleases. ’ ’ 

A little way from the gate he stopped beside a 
flaming red car. “Allow me,” he said, gravely, 

‘ ‘ Emma, old dear, meet Miss Ravenel. She ’s just 
a little afraid you are not a proper chaperone, but 
I’ve vouched for you. Speak up pleasantly, 
please. ’ ’ 

He tooted the saucy horn and held the front 
door wide. 

“Surely you are going with us,” he said, as 
she hesitated. ‘ ‘ Emma will be awfully sore if you 
don’t. She’s devilish sensitive.” 

Perhaps it was his bantering smile, or the 
candid look in his honest eyes — or the fact that 
Margaret had vouched for him that settled the 
matter. At any rate, Caroline stepped into the 
ca,r, sinking down in the luxurious seat beside 
Emma’s owner. 

Emma puffed and sputtered, then, as they swung 
out into a cleared space, purred like a friendly 
kitten. 

“How do you like her?” Biddy asked, when 


BIDDY AND EMMA 65 

they had reached the open road and turned toward 
the hills. 

‘‘She’s splendid !” 

“Hear that, lady? Miss Ravenel likes you. 
Now show her your best steps.” 

“Oh, please, not quite so fast.” 

“The road is clear.” 

“But there are so many turns.” 

“Emma knows them like a book. She’s an 
educated lady — if she can’t make the campus. 
You see she’s had an extension course, special 
work. ’ ’ 

His conversation ran on entertainingly. They 
were in a part of the country new to Caroline now, 
a timbered, hilly district, with amazing views and 
cozy, sheltered nooks. Below the winding road 
the campus lay cupped and calm. 

“Oh, please, not quite so fast! Let me look. 
How beautiful it is — the hills, the woods — and 
yes — there it is — the bay I ’ ’ 

Biddy stopped the car. 

“It is beautiful,” he said, seriously. “I love it 
myself.” For a moment the brown eyes intent 
on the view were wholly tender. “You see, 
I ’ve never known anything else much — of course 
we’ve traveled, the governor. Mater and I, but 
we always come back. When we get over the 
border” (he pointed jerkily to the east) “and 
I get a whiff of old California air, it goes to 
my head like wine. I want to get out and yell 
or beat somebody up or — ” 

‘ ‘ I know, ’ ’ Caroline admitted generously. “It’s 


66 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


like my mountain 3. The whole Rocky Range be- 
longs to me. We understand each other. 

‘‘Great stuff, but — 

‘ ‘ But what ? ^ ’ 

“California’s different, you know — ” 

“No more wonderful.” 

Her laugh was lost in Biddy’s heartier chuckle. 

When they had reached the highest pinnacle, 
he pointed off down the valley. 

“That’s where I live when I’m at home,” he 
said, “about forty miles from here. Like to drive 
you down some day. Show you the vineyards. 
I have two sisters, married. One has a ranch close 
to the old place.” 

“Why, you must live somewhere near Margaret 
Mackintosh ; she ’s off in that direction. ’ ’ 

“Not far. Forty miles on a California road is a 
mere step. I’ll drive you and Margaret down for 
a week-end. You can stay a night with her and 
then come on over to our place. Mother often 
chaperones a crowd. Last year we had our 
‘Formal’ do^vn there — fraternity dance, you 
know. ’ ’ 

They were getting on rapidly for so short an 
acquaintance. The Kirtley blood, which always 
rose to occasion, put on the brakes. 

“You are very kind,” Caroline answered po- 
litely, but she made no promises. 

It was quite five o’clock when Emma stopped 
before the boarding house, with its stately hy- 
drangeas. The time had gone like magic. Caro- 
line glanced at her little silver wrist watch, (part- 


BIDDY AND EMMA 67 

ing gift from the Major) and drew a breath of 
surprise. 

‘‘Why we have driven for over an hour/^ she 
said; “IVe had a wonderful time.^^ 

“Emma thanks you.’^ 

“I thank Emma.’’ 

The whistle gave a responsive toot. They both 
laughed, — the free laugh of youth and good 
spirits. 

‘ ‘ Suppose you are going to the Libe to-night ? ’ ’ 
“It looks as if I would have to go early and 
stay late — now. I had intended to put in two 
good hours on my English this afternoon.” 

‘ ‘ See you later, then. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Probably. ’ ’ 

“If you are very late I should be glad to bring 
you home.” 

“Thank you.” 

“ Is it — agreeable ? Emma will be dozing down 
by the gate. ’ ’ 

“I prefer to walk.” 

“So do I. Don’t imagine I ride all the time. I 
have to keep pretty fit for the team, you know. ’ ’ 
“Yes, Margaret told me. Good night. Thanks, 
so much.” 

“The pleasure was mine.” 

“Not all — it was splendid to see the country 
like that.” 

“The country, yes — ” 

“And get acquainted.” 

His winsome smile repaid her for the compli- 
ment. 


68 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


She turned when she reached the top step of 
the veranda, to watch the handsome car glide 
away down the street. A moment later, when 
Margaret opened the bedroom door, she com- 
mented on the rosy flush that had dawned in 
Caroline's cheeks. 

‘‘Was it the fresh air, or Biddy ^s entertaining 
conversation she asked saucily. “I saw you 
heading for the hills.’’ 

“I reckon it’s a little of both,” Caroline an- 
swered, the color deepening. 

“The Sign of the Tubs” was not a partic- 
ularly congenial place, outside of a few convivial 
souls. Margaret saw very little of the boarders, 
except at meal time, and then only for a brief 
twenty minutes while the plain, but thoroughly 
wholesome menu was being served by a Chinese 
boy in spotless coat and trousers. Mrs. Black- 
stone, the proprietress, insisted upon cleanli- 
ness. 

Margaret had no time for the girls; she was 
always pleasant when she ran upon them in the 
halls, or at table, and her friendly smile put her 
beyond the pale of a snob, but Caroline sometimes 
halted in the big living room and talked shop 
(shop meaning lessons) before the crackling fire 
that lent warmth and cheer. Sometimes too, on 
Friday nights, lured by the phonograph, she took 
a whirl around the halls and library which had 
been cleared for dancing. Before she had been in 
the house a month she knew each girl by name, 
where she came from, and, in some unaccountable 


BIDDY AND EMMA 


69 


way, her general aim. She admired Constance 
Moore, the studious sophomore across the hall; 
she liked Margery Macon, the pretty little butter- 
fly who hovered over the campus like a humming 
bird, feeding on festivities and shirking responsi- 
bilities. ^‘She really isn’t half so no-account as 
she appears,” she defended when the other girls 
criticized. 

And the girls liked Caroline. Those childhood 
days spent in the Virginia foothills, or in the long 
triangular Kirtley yard, had a distinct place in 
the formation of her character; they had molded 
her, made her adaptable, given her an air of 
comradery. 

‘‘The girls are having a feast to-night in Claire 
Colburn’s room,” or, “Mary Fellows is cutting her 
birthday cake, and we are invited, ’ ’ she would say 
to Margaret, who invariably replied, “Trot along, 
my dear, if you want to — I can’t — not with the 
stack of work ahead of me to-night. ’ ’ 

So Caroline would steal across the hall, or up on 
the next floor, to be circled by half a dozen pairs 
of arms and given the comfortable seat next to 
the smoky register that did its best to send up a 
remnant of heat. 

Margaret, aristocrat to her finger tips, would 
have felt ill at ease among girls who differed so 
in types and standards. Not so Caroline. She 
might never have chosen Margery Macon for a 
friend, or found comfort in Constance Moore or 
plain, stupid little Fanny Garth — but they in- 
terested her; her gregarious nature responded to 


70 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


their solicitations as naturally as a flower turns 
to the sun. 

As the days grew into weeks, life took on new 
interest and color. It was so wonderful, so fresh 
and altogether different; something within her 
went out to meet it, thrilling at its joys. 

Every phase of college life interested her. 
She loved its traditions, its lure, its opportuni- 
ties. Above all she loved being a part of it, a 
unit in the great structure. 

One day, in passing, a Senior thrust a little 
book into her hand. She opened it with interest. 
The first thing that caught her eye was the col- 
lege president's message to Preshmien. Its de- 
mocracy struck at the roots of her being. ‘‘Seek 
the company of the clean,’’ he said, “those 
whose hands are clean though they are calloused, 
whose clothes are clean though they are worn, 
whose words are clean though they are simple, 
whose thoughts are clean though they are plain. 
These different forms of cleanliness go together, 
and react upon each other.” 

And she was acquiring knowledge. She had 
learned to drop her eyes in maiden modesty when 
she passed the Senior Bench that stood in front 
of the “Co-op”, a campus rendezvous; that men 
gathered on the west side of the stairs in a certain 
building, while the girls took the east; that only 
Freshmen hauled wood for rallies; that upper 
classmen wore cords on their hats while the 
“Fresh” sported a baby bonnet; that “All 
Hail”, the university hynm, was sung at the 


BIDDY AND EMMA 


71 


close of all affairs, from sorority teas to the Big 
Game ; that everybody uncovered and stood 
while it was sung. She sometimes wondered if 
everybody thrilled to its call as she did. 

As to other learning — her studies — well, one 
did the best one could with them and trusted to 
luck and strong coffee to weather examinations. 
Her notebooks were filling up, and anyway 
the Major, wise man, had said that education 
was seventy-five per cent experience. He had 
cautioned her about working for grades. Under- 
standing was the first consideration, and he had 
reminded her that life’s best races had not been 
won by the swift. 

California delighted her. The soft air, almost 
a caress, sometimes cool and misty, sometimes 
fresh and invigorating, rested her when she was 
tired, encouraged her when she was low. There 
were days when the world seemed so beautiful 
that she stopped on the campus and thirstily 
drank in the view, and then, remembering how 
Mayre would love it, dropped down in the Glade 
beside a tinkling brook and scribbled a dis- 
jointed letter on a leaf from her notebook. 
Sometimes it read : 

“If you were only here this morning, darling, 
to see the bay sparkling in the sunshine.” Or 
“How green and lovely the grass is, how wonder- 
ful the flowers. On my way to the campus I took 
a short cut through a glorified alley where ge- 
raniums, saucy, flaming, scarlet things, were rac- 
ing each other up an old bam door. Fancy, in an 


72 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


alley ! and you watch yours for each tiny blossom. 
And heliotrope! It always makes me think of 
Mother. Can you picture heliotrope bold enough 
to climb to second story windows to see what^s 
going on inside? Well, it does here. Violets 
sprawl everywhere, and nasturtiums play hop- 
scotch on everybody’s lawns. You would go wild 
with joy over them.” 

Or, Biddy Webster and I walked up on the hill 
to the ‘ C ’ last night and watched the sun take its 
nightly dip into the sea.” 

Or, wish you might have awakened with me 
this morning and viewed the sunrise. Margaret 
and I have been sleeping on the tiny porch that 
opens otf the haU — just room for two cots. 
Yesterday I was so blue — everything went 
wrong, but to-day — well, to-day it is joy to 
live ! ’ ’ 

And again, ‘‘It seems cruel, dearest, that you 
can’t have what I’m getting out here — sunshine 
and flowers and birds — they are so much more 
a part of you.” “This afternoon I had a half- 
hour to spare so I went up in the Campanile — 
the great tower that rises hundreds of feet above 
the campus. There’s something about going up 
there that lifts one spiritually, as well as bodily. 
You have one grand sweep of country; hills, sea, 
forest and city. Tevis needn’t talk to me about 
going East to finish my education. This is my 
‘Promised Land.’ ” 

Her letters to the Major took on a more serious 
note. Chronicles of everyday happenings; ideas 


BIDDY AND EMMA 


73 


upon colleges in general ; accounts of her work with 
side lights on teachers ; interesting, soul-revealing 
letters that the Major read with a smile, sometimes 
with a wistful sigh, often mistily. 

Sometimes her fresh enthusiasm swept him back 
to his own college days, — as when she wrote of 
the rallies : 

^‘Now, toward the middle of September, the 
very air seems charged with football. One hears 
little else. On Thanksgiving we play Stanford, 
and of course California will win. Perhaps I 
hear a little more about the game than some be- 
cause of Biddy Webster, the Varsity Captain. 
He has been very nice to me and is a great 
favorite on the campus. Very unspoiled, too, 
considering the homage paid him. The air fairly 
pulsates when he shows up. And at practice, 
such yelling: ^What’s the matter with Web- 
ster! He’s all right!’ And then thousands of 
voices mingling: 

^Here’s to you, friend Webster! 

Here’s to you, our jovial friend! ’ 

‘ ^ But I got my first real thrill the other night at 
the Greek, an enornmus amphitheater where the 
big rallies are held. How I wish you might have 
been there. Major! All day long the Freshmen 
hauled wood through the streets for the bonfires; 
wagons, buggies, motors and trucks were brought 
into use, and the town ran riot with college yells 
and songs. By seven everybody in Berkeley was 
hurrying toward the campus, laughing, singing. 


74 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


jostling, elbowing, squeezing. I shall have to wait 
until I see you to give you details ; word pictures 
(on paper) would never do the scene justice. 
But perhaps you can imagine ten thousand student 
voices raised in college songs, directed by a yell 
master that inspired the men almost to frenzy; 
the great leaping, roaring, mounting fire that threw 
its lurid gleams higher and higher — out over the 
tree tops and on, up to the very stars ; that sway- 
ing, waving, smiling mass of humanity within the 
sacred old stone walls — sometimes screaming, 
sometimes chanting, sometimes humming — each 
with a newspaper before his face to hold back the 
scorching flames (newspapers with holes cut in for 
eyes to peer through) , and the sophomores yelling 
at the top of their lusty lungs, ‘MORE WOOD! 
MORE WOOD!! MORE WOOD!!!,» freshies 
scrambling to comply, throwing on boxes, tree 
roots, shingles, logs, always taking care to pile 
it on the sophomore side, so that the flames al- 
most scorched the greedy rooters. 

“And then, dear Major, can you see the throng 
rising, hear those thousands of voices ringing, 
floating out over the city in one grand, ‘All 
HaiPr’ 

'^All hail, Blue and Gold, thy colors unfold, 

O ’er loyal Californians, whose hearts are strong and bold. 
All hail. Blue and Gold, to thee we cling. 

O’er golden fields of poppies, thy praises we will sing. 

All hail. Blue and Gold, on breezes ye sail. 

Thy sight we love, all hail, all hail. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER VIII 


OLD FKIENDS 

I T was one day late in September tbat Caroline, 
hurrying across the campus, was stopped by a 
young man who held out his hand and smiled 
agreeably. 

‘H*canT be mistaken; this is Miss Ravenel, isn^t 
it?’’ 

Caroline avoided the hand until she had taken 
a look in the smiling blue eyes above her. The 
tall, attractive youth seemed very sure of him- 
self. 

‘‘You have the advantage of me,” she began. 
“You don’t remember me? I’ll give you three 
guesses — as you used to give me when we were 
ten and twelve respectively — 'in Warrensburg, 
on your father’s woodpile — ” 

“Willy Boland !” she exclaimed, taking the hand 
and shaking it warmly. “Where on earth, as 
Maumy would say, did y’all hail from?” 

‘ ‘ Maumy still living ? ” 

“Living! I should say she is. I had a letter 
from her this morning, via Leigh, of course. But 
tell me what you are doing here ? ’ ’ 

“Studying.” 


76 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


You mean that you have entered California 

‘‘I have.’^ 

‘‘But — how come?^^ she laughed, falling again 
into darkey vernacular. 

“The folks moved here about a month ago; 
mother hasnT been well for some time. She 
clings to me — girls all married, you know — ’ ^ 

“How perfectly splendid — not about your 
mother — I’m terribly sorry — but your being 
here — ” 

“Rather like it, myself.’^ 

“Junior, I suppose.” 

“Yes; had two years East — Dartmouth.” 

‘ ‘ And you like the W est ! ” 

“Now that I have found you.” 

Caroline’s quick, responsive laugh floated on 
the breeze. 

“Do you know — I’ve often thought about it — 
that I ’d tell you if I ever saw you again — I was 
frightened to death once for fear I would have to 
marry you, and take care of you — that time — on 
the woodpile when my devil broke loose — ” 

“I’m not sure but I may hold you to it yet — ’ ’ 
‘ ‘ Willy ! ’ ’ 

“Billy, please. Willy was shed with knee 
trousers.” 

They walked on, talking and laughing. When 
they parted, they had planned to meet later in the 
day. 

“I will call for you at half-past five,” he said 
as he turned. “We dine at seven. Mother will 
be so anxious to visit for an hour.” 


OLD FRIENDS 


77 


Sometliing made her turn to look at him. Did 
she imagine it, or was there an almost imper- 
ceptible limp in his gait? The suggestion tor- 
mented her all morning. 

It was delightful to see Mrs. Boland again, al- 
though in her childhood Caroline had rather dis- 
liked the frail, anaemic looking woman, invariably 
swathed in shawls. She found her still frail, but 
her face lighted with pleasure at the sight of 
Caroline. 

^‘Dear child, it is a real joy to have you with 
us,’’ she said in her sweet, slow drawl. Billy 
has been telling me that you were at the Uni- 
versity, but that he could not locate you — ” 

‘ ^ Scarcely, among thousands. ’ ’ 

Caroline watched him as he rose to wrap the 
soft wool shawl about his mother’s shoulders; his 
devotion was quite beautiful, she thought. Yes 
— surely — he did limp — ever so little. 

For a moment she floundered in the conversa- 
tion. Then with Caroline directness, she blurted 
forth : 

‘‘Billy, did that fall I gave you, ever — ever 
have any bad results ? It is still on my conscience, 
always will be. ’ ’ 

Billy’s smile was reassuring. 

“Oh, sometimes in damp weather, when rheu- 
matism is in the air — to-day with this fog, for 
instance. Rheumatism always nags a bruise.” 

“I am so sorry.” 

Southern chivalry rose to the occasion. 

“Forget it. It was no more your fault than 


78 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


mine. I consider it a pleasant reminder of a very 
nnnsual little playwright. Doing any stunts now, 
by the way; seems to me somebody wrote us you 
were a budding authoress. ’ ^ 

^‘Budding is right. My work has never 
bloomed. ’ ’ 

^ ‘ But you keep it up T ’ 

‘‘Oh, I scribble when the mood^s on.^’ 

“ Dramas r’ 

“No ; yarns. 

“Have you ever remodeled ‘The Garden of 
Eden’T’ 

A flush mounted Caroline’s cheeks and edged 
into her hair. 

“That was a cracker jack! You remember you 
offered me the lead, but I declined. ’ ’ 

They all laughed. “Tell me about the Mc- 
Fees,” Caroline begged, and the hour was spent 
in home gossip. 

It was so delightful to dine at a home board 
with candles softly aglow, with a soft-footed, soft- 
spoken negro woman passing Virginia ham and 
beaten biscuits, that Caroline lingered, despite the 
lessons awaiting her attention at the Libe. 

When she finally said good night, it was with the 
promise of an early visit. 

“I’ll be in early, dear,” Billy said, stooping to 
kiss his mother’s wasted cheek, and the colored 
maid took the invalid away in a wheel chair. 

“Does your mother show improvement here?” 
Carolii\e asked kindly, as they started for the 
campus. 


OLD FRIENDS 


79 


Billy shook his head and his voice was low and 
troubled. ‘‘No, not materially, and she misses 
the home folks. Come in often, Caroline, if you 
can. Try to dine with us every week — it would 
be a blessing to both of us.’’ 

“I’m pretty busy — but I ’ll try. ’ ’ 

“Sally Colfax runs in frequently. I suppose 
you have seen her. ’ ’ 

“You don’t mean to say Sally Colfax is here.” 

“Surely. Lives here. Don’t you know that 
Berkeley is a Mecca! Sally’s a very popular 
young woman on the campus. Made an honor so- 
ciety last year, and one of the best sororities. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ How interesting. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ She will be no end glad to see you. The Col- 
faxes always swore by your father.” 

“Everybody adores the Major.” The remark 
was not without pride. 

And so it chanced, the next day being Saturday, 
that a very smart runabout stopped before “The 
Tubs” and an attractive looking young woman 
with a voice of silvery sweetness made inquiry for 
Miss Ravenel. 

There was a pleasant reunion in the big square 
bedroom and a cup of tea to cement old friend- 
ship, in which Margaret joined. 

“What a funny little old world this is,” Caro- 
line remarked tritely, as Sally made her depar- 
ture, ‘ ‘ and how we all seem to be bound together. 
Here is Margaret, a member of your honor society 
and here am I — the friend of you both — and so 
proud to be.” 


80 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


mighty glad to have found you again,’’ 
Sally whispered, as she bent to kiss Caroline’s 
brown cheek, though in the old days I used to be 
terribly afraid of you. I remember so well,” she 
broke otf and laughed, ^ ^ the day Mother and Aunt 
Rose were having tea with your Mother — Tom 
and I were at dancing school — ” 

know — the day Billy Boland was hurt.” 

^^The same; Mother came home and offered up 
a prayer because Tom escaped. Oh, you were a 
scamp ! Do you know, Margaret, what the neigh- 
bors used to call Caroline? ‘That awful little 
Ravenel girl ! ’ She was always in mischief ; no 
one ever knew where it would lead her. I do hope 
you have reformed, because it would give me a 
lot of pleasure to introduce a Kirtley in these 
parts. You know in the South — ” she turned 
again to Margaret — “Kirtley blood is royal 
blue ! ’ ’ 

“I will try not to disgrace you,” Caroline 
promised. 

“All right, I shall trust you, and to seal the 
bond, lunch with me at my sorority on Monday. 
I’ll meet you at the Oak at 12:15. I’m really dy- 
ing to have the girls know you, despite your repu- 
tation. ’ ’ 

With a wave she was gone, and Caroline stood 
for a moment, lost in thought, as the busy little 
motor chugged its way into the near-by avenue. 



Sometimes, over a eup of tea, Margaret and Caroline 
talked the matter over. Page 81 . 




CHAPTER IX 


THE OLD CAKOLINE 

TT is rather remarkable what a little influence 
A will do for even a very plain girl on a univer- 
sity campus, but to an attractive one, with breed- 
ing and charm, opportunities are unlimited. 

Two weeks after Caroline lunched with Sally 
Colfax, she was bidden to more functions than 
time permitted her to accept. 

Sally, with southern spirit and loyalty, had pro- 
claimed Kirtley standards, Kirtley precedents, 
Kirtley inheritances to all of her acquaintances, 
and the seed of her enthusiasm had fallen in 
fallow ground. Caroline became a mild rage, 
where before she had walked (save for Margaret 
and the girls at the boarding house) independent 
and alone. And she was not quite sure that she 
liked the change. It encroached upon her time, 
kept her denying siUy statements, brought her 
friends that she feared might be a hindrance, 
rather than a help, for, to move in a certain set 
— even in college — means a curtailment of per- 
sonal privileges. 

Sometimes, over a cup of tea and Maumy 
RachePs cookies, which arrived in fresh batches 


82 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


every two or three weeks, Margaret and Caroline 
talked the matter over. 

course you will be asked to join a sorority 
when the rushing begins again after Christmas,’^ 
Margaret said, eyeing her roommate a bit wist- 
fully. 

‘ AVhy have you never joined, Margaret? ’ ’ Caro- 
line asked. 

A faint crimson wave tinged Margaret ^s pale, 
high-bred face. 

^ ^ One has to be bidden, my dear. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ But surely you have been — so many fine 
things have come to you. ’ ^ 

‘^No — a scholarship girl has no place in a 
sorority. The expense is too great.’’ 

There was silence for a moment. 

Would you have joined — please don’t mind 
my asking — if it had been possible?” 

Margaret turned her tea into her saucer and in- 
spected the grounds in her cup critically. 
‘^Look,” she said, ‘‘see what’s in my fortune: a 
gift, a letter and a surprise ! ’ ’ 

Caroline seemed a little crestfallen. 

“You needn’t answer my question if you’d 
rather not — I did not mean to be inquisitive.” 

Margaret put her cup on the table. 

“A sorority?” she said, looking out through the 
west window to the sea. “Yes, I suppose I should 
have joined — had I been able. There’s an ad- 
vantage in being a member — prestige — oppor- 
tunities for friendships.” 

“If only more girls like you would join — ” 


THE OLD CAROLINE 


83 


There are heaps finer. Don’t get it into your 
head that sororities are made up of dregs. A 
good sorority often makes a woman out of a 
drone. In the first place she has to work. If she 
doesn’t, they won’t have her. If she fails, she 
drags the whole house down. That’s a responsi- 
bility few like to face. Take Margery Macon. A 
sorority would be her salvation — if she could 
make one. She would have to wake up. The 
girls would make it frightfully warm for her if she 
didn’t. As it is, she’s going to flunk out her first 
semester. ’ ’ 

^ ‘ Oh, I hope not ! ’ ’ 

^^The die is cast. She’s too pretty to be flat- 
tered, too unstable. She needs the strong right 
arm of a Senior sister. ’ ’ 

^‘But they are all so — so undemocratic — don’t 
you think?” Caroline was still speaking of sorori- 
ties. 

There’s been class distinction ever since time 
began. I’ll wager old Mr. Noah picked the nicest 
people he could find to fill the ark. As for sorori- 
ties, what’s the difference between them and a 
boarding-house club I ’ ’ 

^^But aren’t sororities more snobbish?” 

‘^Oh, there are always snobs — everywhere. 
Social, intellectual, Christian; the Episcopalian 
scorns the free Methodist; the college, the finish- 
ing school; the dilettante, the student. You can’t 
change the universe; it isn’t worth while to try.” 

Caroline felt that she had entered a maze be- 
yond her unraveling. 


84 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


don’t wonder that you are going to be a 
lawyer, ’ ’ she said with one of her swift, character- 
istic smiles. ^‘You’ll be a great success. A 
minute ago I had very definite ideas upon this 
matter ; I have yet, but they’re muddled. I reckon 
I’ll write to the Major.” Which she did, at 
length. 

In due time the answer came back. 

There is a good deal of sound reasoning in 
your roommate’s arguments for a sorority,” he 
wrote, ‘^but I think, upon this subject, you must 
rely upon your own judgment and conviction. 
If you are asked, and care to join a sorority, I am 
quite willing to help you with the expenses. For- 
tunately, collections are picking up, and I am be- 
ginning to feel more comfortable in regard to 
finances. From experience I realize what a stim- 
ulus the binding together of ideals and standards 
can be. I regard such an affiliation as an advan- 
tage. ’ ’ 

‘^Even the Major seems to side with you,” 
Caroline said to Margaret, in discussing the 
matter further. ^ ‘ But I still insist that sororities 
are very undemocratic institutions. You remem- 
ber how unhappy Constance felt a few weeks ago 
when the girls dropped her after feasting and 
entertaining her for a solid week?” 

Margaret wheeled suddenly. 

‘‘Did it ever occur to you that there is another 
approach to this subject?” she asked. “Join a 
sorority and inject your democracy into it. You 
have a personality that counts. Use it.” 


THE OLD CAROLINE 


85 


It was an astonishing compliment from Mar- 
garet. Caroline looked at her in amazement. 

‘^Perhaps I will not be asked/’ she said quietly. 

‘ M ’ll chance that. ’ ’ 

‘^Margaret, do you want to be rid of me? If I 
joined a house I would have to- live there.” 

‘ ^ I have thought of that — but I would be very 
selfish to stand in your way; no, I — ” 

She evidently thought better of what she was 
going to say and changed the subject with her 
usual abruptness. 

Caroline passed the first three months at col- 
lege without many twinges of homesickness. 
There were times when a vision of the comfortable 
old red house at the foot of the Peak brought a 
swift rush of tears, but her work was too absorb- 
ing to admit of ‘^spells.” 

As the holiday season drew near there were 
waves of longing. Leigh wrote : 

‘‘We can’t imagine Christmas this year with you and 
Alison both away, but we shall have to make the best of 
it. Maumy is just sick about it, fusses and fumes all the 
time. Last night she said, ‘Marse Major, it’s plum 
dre’ful to let that chile stay out thar wif strangers 
Chris ’mus time!’ And this morning, what do you sup- 
pose she did : Came in before I was up, and asked me to 
go to the bank and draw out her ‘bury’n’ money and send 
it to you for railroad fare. I said, ‘But, Maumy, how 
about that sheaf of wheat you’ve been saving for all these 
years ? ’ 

“ ‘I done give up ever getting back to Virginny,’ she 
reminded me, ‘ and if I ’s buried here, ain ’t nobody gwine 


86 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


care whether I has wheat er corn hnskins/ Poor old 
dear, she’s very childish, and sometimes a great trial.” 

A few days later May re added ; 

‘‘Maumy is too trying for words these days and so 
notional. Yesterday she made Leigh go to the bank and 
draw out two hundred dollars. She’s so mysterious 
about what she is going to do with it. Keeps it rolled 
in an old rag stuck in her bosom during the day, and 
heaven only knows what she does with it at night. She ’s 
getting her clothes all fixed up. Quite fussy' abqut.them. 
Leigh thinks she’s going back home before long. 

^‘We are so delighted to know that you are spending 
Christmas with Sally. Hope that you will have a very 
happy day. Our box of goodies and gifts will reach you 
a few days before Christmas, but you mustn’t open it 
until the twenty-fifth; will you?” 

There were also letters from home : Brief 
snatches from Jimmy Ludlow, queer and cryptic, 
with little undercurrents that Caroline’s liberal 
mind could not fathom. One* day a mere para- 
graph elucidated: 

“I am very sure that your friend, Biddy Webster, is 
quite the hero that you picture him. All campuses boast 
him. Glad to know that his hair is short, not long. The 
natural marcel is a thriller! I love your college spirit, 
Caroline, but I must’ remind you that I am four years out 
from the sea of my college experiences and can’t quite 
match your pep. Couldn’t you make your letters a little 
— well, general, perhaps — more items of common 
interest ? ’ ’ 


THE OLD CAROLINE 


87 


In the next mail this went back : 

Jimmy dear: 

‘‘What a horrid bore I must have been. Please do for- 
give me. Have been reading such an interesting book 
on Australia. Did you know that out there they have 
recently discovered a potato with a purple jacket and 
blue eyes? Should think they would be much more 
aesthetic and tempting than the grubby home variety. I 
had never given much thought before to potatoes — that 
is to their artistic value — but now I can see how fasci- 
nating they might be in this color-producing soil. I have 
been wondering if carrots might not, under like condi- 
tions, deepen in tone to — say, a rich, gorgeous, Ameri- 
can beauty shade, ribbed with national colors, or perhaps 
a rainbow effect. And turnips ! What possibilities with 
their dainty, cream and blue shadings. Can you fancy 
anything more exquisite than a turquoise turnip ? 

“And onions! I have also been thinking about them. 
In fact, your letter inspired me to a bit of free verse : 

“As ever, with all good wishes, 

‘ ‘ Caroline. ’ ’ 

Attached to the letter was this : 

TO AN ONION 

Beautiful, lustrous, golden-brown creature I 
With my cruel knife I tear 
From off thy tender body 
Its silken sheath. 

Why these tears? 

It is because I foresee thy doom. 

Boiled in a kettle of salted water, 

Salt as my tears — salt as my tears? 


88 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


As Christmas week came on, California belied 
her reputation for sunshine and fair weather, 
ushering in a period of wind and rain that added 
to the general gloom. Caroline was not, as a 
rule, mercurial in disposition, but wet, disagree- 
able weather had the effect of dampening her en- 
thusiasm. 

‘‘Your beautiful climate is acting abominably, ^ ^ 
she said to Biddy Webster one afternoon, sharing 
his umbrella on the way home from the campus. 
“I can^t say I like this horrid little drizzle that 
comes down like a summer shower and turns 
you into an icicle! At home, when it rains, it 
rains. You know it is raining and prepare for 
it.’’ 

As she spoke, a gust of wind took Biddy’s um- 
brella and turned it inside out. The soft, insist- 
ent rain became a deluge. 

A few days before Christmas the experience 
was repeated and Caroline, a bit homesick, was 
again disagreeable. 

“These make-believe storms,” she began — 

“ ‘Make-believe!’ You condemned them as be- 
ing ‘frights’ the other day,” Biddy bristled. 

“Oh, you people out here don’t know what a 
real storm is! You should see one gather over 
Pike’s Peak. It’s the most glorious Fourth of 
July celebration you ever witnessed. The light- 
ning shoots across the sky leaving a sizzle a mile 
long, and the wind — you think wind bad here — 
I wish you could feel Colorado wind. It lifts you 
oft your feet and carries you along like a kitten. ’ ’ 


THE OLD CAROLINE 89 

Biddy stopped in the road and looked into 
Caroline's teasing countenance. 

^^Do you want to see an honest-to-goodness 
storm r’ he asked. 

^‘Wherer’ 

^^Out on the bay. We can ride over to the city 
and back. ’ ’ 

The old Caroline, dormant but alive, rose like 
a ghost from dead ashes. Her eyes were two 
golden flames. 

‘ ‘ I should perfectly adore it ! ’ ’ 

Two minutes later Emma’s nose pointed toward 
the ferry. With each bound of her flying feet, 
the storm rose. The wind shrieked and raced, 
and although it was but five o’clock in the after- 
noon, the day was dark and threatening. 

^^Sure you’re not afraid?” Biddy asked, pilot- 
ing her up the gangway. 

Caroline was too busy catching her breath and 
holding her hat to reply, but she turned a smiling 
face as they ran for the upper deck. 

It was great sport at first. Nobody seemed 
alarmed, though the sea rose high. When the 
boat rolled, men, women and children took hands 
and ran with the lurching deck to safety on the 
other side. Now and then an angry wave washed 
the railing, leaving a muddy rivulet on the floor. 

Suddenly the boat dipped, swung to the left, 
then turned completely so that her bow headed in 
the direction from which she had sailed. A sea- 
man called, ‘ ‘ Everybody inside ! ’ ’ and cleared the 
deck. / 


90 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


Caroline seemed bewildered for a moment ; she 
felt dizzy. Biddy’s protecting hand on her arm 
reassured her. 

‘‘We’ll go into the ship cafe,” he said. “This 
choppy sea may make you ill. We’ll have some 
coffee.” 

Many were of the same mind. The long tables, 
polished and bare of cloth, were filling up ; waiters 
in white coats, smiling at the storm, hurried to and 
fro, spilling, splashing, skidding across the floor 
with orders, yet withal good-natured. 

Caroline’s coffee had barely been placed before 
her when the ship lunged, sending the cup sliding 
across the board, where it fell in the lap of a 
portly woman who railed at the waiter’s stu- 
pidity and sent glowering looks in Biddy’s di- 
rection. 

Caroline liked Biddy’s attitude. He was kind, 
rather than annoyed. He assisted the waiter in 
sopping up the stained garment, hoped that it was 
not quite ruined, and smiled so delightfully that 
the woman saw the humor of the situation and 
laughed with him. Biddy had the happy faculty 
of making friends. 

They were over an hour in crossing. Some- 
times the ship battled with the wind. Sometimes 
it almost seemed as if she played with it, turning 
and careening, buffeting the lunging waves, par- 
leying with them, then steadying in her course, 
worn with the frolic. 

Once or twice Caroline’s face blanched, but still 
she laughed. It was only when they landed and 


THE OLD CAROLINE 91 

found that no boats would be sent back until the 
storm subsided, that she became alarmed. 

In the ferry building people paced back and 
forth restlessly. Tired business men, weary 
mothers with children clinging to hands and 
skirts; anxious girls. Old settlers talked of the 
storm. 

‘‘Worst in twenty years, Caroline beard a 
grizzled patriarch say as they passed him. “I 
bear that one of the boats struck the Island. ’ ^ 

Caroline shivered and a cold chill ran down her 
spine. How had she dared take such a chance? 
Suppose she had been in an accident. She had 
left no word as to her whereabouts. 

The situation alarmed her as the storm had 
failed to do. 

“I must get word to Margaret immediately,^^ 
she said to Biddy. “No one knows where I am.’’ 

Biddy came hack from the telephone booth with 
a face a little anxious. 

‘ ‘ The lines are down, ’ ’ he said. 

“But we can wire — ” 

“Telegraph lines are down, too.” 

‘ ‘ What shall we do ? ” 

“Stay here, I fancy, until we can turn back — 
or, we might get up town to a movie. ’ ’ 

Caroline chose the waiting room. 

As the hands on the clock crept to seven, then 
half-past, then eight, her restlessness became ap- 
parent. 

Biddy was contrite. 

“I got you into this,” he said; “I’m sorry, hut 


92 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


you were so sure Colorado — Say, ’ ’ he broke off, 
‘‘can the wind blow in California?^’ 

‘Tt can.” 

‘‘As stiff—” 

“ Stiff er.” 

“But you said — ” 

“That was this afternoon, Biddy; I’ve changed 
my mind. ’ ’ 

It is strange how well acquainted people can be- 
come in a few hours. At nine, when the gates 
opened and people streamed through to the be- 
lated boat, Biddy knew the Major, Leigh, Mayre 
— even Mrs. Ravenel and Alison — quite inti- 
mately, and in turn, Caroline had made the ac- 
quaintance of “the governor”, “Mater”, and 
“the girls.” Aside from the fact that she had 
been a little indiscreet and thoughtless, no harm 
was done, — unless Margaret had raised an alarm ; 
but Margaret was not given to that sort of thing. 

The wind was dying down on the other side of 
the bay. Biddy rather insisted upon a taxi to save 
time in getting to the house, but Caroline, her 
frolic over, was inclined to be ceremonial. “The 
street car is all right, ’ ’ she insisted. 

As they neared “The Tubs” her heart fluttered 
anxiously; suppose they had sent out messengers 
for her. She remembered a far distant day when 
the town crier had been hurried into service in 
her behalf. How often she had heard her mother 
tell the story. His call, “Child lost! Child 
lost ! ’ ’ had never ceased to thrill. 

The house was in sight; dark as a tomb, save 


THE OLD CAROLINE 


93 


for a glimmer in the living room. She wondered 
about that. Mrs. Blackstone was very particular 
about lights. They were always turned otf down- 
stairs promptly at ten, except for a dim, half- 
toned bulb encased in a red shade that adorned 
the lower hall. 

Biddy made his adieus quickly. 

Caroline fitted her latchkey into the lock quietly. 
The house was deathly still, save for a steady re- 
sounding snore that escaped the confines of a bed- 
room and traveled its weary length down the long 
flights of stairs. 

Caroline paused to listen. Never, during her 
four months’ residence in the house, had she 
heard such a sound, and she and Margaret had 
come in late on several occasions. 

She stopped in the hall, puzzled. ‘‘It isn’t com- 
ing from upstairs at all,” she thought. “It’s 
from the living room. Some one has fallen asleep 
there ; that ’s why the light ’s on. ’ ’ 

She crossed the hall and looked in. She could 
not see well at first but gradually the room 
cleared. It took but a moment to find the truant. 

Caroline’s eyes were a study as they rested 
upon her. They flashed with astonishment — 
with humor ; they clouded with bewilderment ; but 
gradually a tender light dawned in them; a light 
that shone with affection. 

On one of the least comfortable chairs, her body 
relaxed in sleep, reclined a portly old woman. 
Her black bonnet with its bold purple pansies had 
slipped from her head (the ties had been loosened 


94 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


for comfort) showing a row of kinky gray pig- 
tails. Her arms hnng limp and heavy. A shabby 
black handbag had escaped a hand that hovered 
near it, and a yellow and red bandana handker- 
chief stuffed with oranges, apples and cookies kept 
it company. At her feet stood a wicker suit case, 
new and bulging. 

It was Maumy Rachel. 


CHAPTER X 


CHEISTMAS 

F or a moment Caroline stood looking at the 
pathetic figure, so weary and worn with the 
long journey. A sob choked her. She dropped 
down on her knees and gently shook one of the 
heavy arms. 

^^Maumy dear, wake up,’’ she whispered. 
‘‘See, it’s I, Caroline!” 

There was a trembling of the heavy shoulders, 
a surprised gasp and Maumy straightened. Her 
eyes strained until the yellow whites were upper- 
most. Then the old arms opened, and Caroline 
flung herself into them. Maumy drew her down 
on her lap. 

“Thar, thar now, lamhie, don’t cry. This ain’t 
no way to greet me when I done come so far to see 
you. Thar, thar now, don’t, honey, don’t! Youse 
gwine be sick if you carry on this-a-way. Maumy 
cain’t hare to hear you sob.” 

The strain of the past few hours, the sight of 
the beloved old face linked indissolubly with her 
childhood, loosened the torrent of homesickness 
that had, unconsciously, been welling for weeks in 
Caroline’s heart. 

“How are they all?” she managed to ask after 


96 AT COLLEGE 

a moment. ‘^The Major, Mother, and the girls T’ 

^‘Jes fine, honey, jes fine!^^ 

Maumy fumbled in her handbag and brought 
forth a spotless handkerchief. 

‘^Wipe yer eyes. Missy, and don’t cry no more. 
Maumy ’s gwine spen’ Christmas wif y’all. She 
ain’t gwine let you stay way oft here by y’self.” 

If she calculated that her remarks would brace 
Caroline, she was mistaken. The torrent broke 
again. 

Maumy settled back, comforting the heaving 
shoulders with gentle pats. 

reckon youse jes got to have yo’ cry out,” 
she said, with a trembling sigh. ‘^Go long, and 
when you gets through, tell Maumy what y’all 
been up to to-night. Some ’fin, I knows. ’ ’ 

It was not long before she had the whole story. 
But she did not scold. Something in Caroline’s 
face checked admonition. It had grown older. 
There was a look of the Major’s in the clear, 
honest eyes. A look that Maumy recognized and 
respected. 

‘‘I reckon if y ’all’s old ’nough to come way 
long off here to school, y ’all’s old ’nough to tend 
to yer own affairs. Missy, but that war a turrible 
risky thing to do. Turrible risky! I’se* s ’prised 
at you, well as I know you.” 

It was some time after Caroline had freed her 
conscience and drawn a hassock up beside her old 
nurse, that she said: 

^^Now, Maumy, tell me just why you came? 
Surely not just to see me?” 


CHRISTMAS 


97 


‘‘You and Charity Harrison, honey. 

A light dawned in Caroline's eyes. Charity 
was Mrs. Colfax ^s cook. She had come with the 
family from Virginia. Caroline remembered 
Sally’s having told her that Charity had set up 
an establishment of her own somewhere in ‘ ‘ cullud 
town”, coming in by the day. 

“You are going to visit Charity?” 

“ Yes’m.” 

‘ ‘ How nice. But I must find a place for you to- 
night. Wait a minute until I speak with my 
roommate.” 

“I kin set here, Missy; I’se kinda tired out now. 
Them chair cars ain’t so restful as they make 
out. ’ ’ 

“Maumy! you didn’t sit up all the way from 
home ? ’ ’ 

“No’m, no’m; I recline consid’able.” 

“I should think you would be dead !” 

The light was out in the west chamber, but Mar- 
garet called, ‘ ‘ That you, Caroline ? ’ ’ She touched 
the electric switch and winked up at her. 

“Blow in with the storm?” she asked sleepily. 

“Were you worried about me?” 

“No; I supposed that you were with Sally until 
your old Maumy arrived soon after dinner; then 
I telephoned. Sally thought you were at the Bo- 
lands. But I couldn’t locate you there.” 

‘ ‘ Then what did you do ? ” 

“Went to bed, after trying to make the poor 
old woman comfortable. She insisted that she’d 
just ‘set awhile’ until you came.” 


98 


CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


‘ ‘ The storm has blown over now, so that we can 
go out on the porch. Would you mind if Maumy 
slept in here — just for the night. I could put her 
up on the couch. She ’s colored, I know, but she ^s 
as clean as — ” 

‘^Why, of course. I thought of that, but she 
wouldn’t come upstairs.” 

A few minutes later, Caroline was again at 
Maumy ’s feet, listening to the home news with 
avid interest. 

‘‘But how on earth did the Major happen to let 
you come?” she asked. 

“Bress yer heart, he didn’t know nofin’ ’bout 
hit.” Maumy chuckled cunningly. “Brother 
Brown, the Bap’tis’ minister, fix it up. I give 
him a right smart contribution fer his church. I 
told Miss Leigh I war goin’ to a festible and stay 
all night with a friend — ” 

‘ ‘ Maumy ! that wasn ’t like you. ’ ’ 

“You ain’t never run away, has you. Missy — 
’thout letting the home folks know? Seem lak I 
reccommember one time — ” 

“Leigh must have been wild when you didn’t 
come back. ’ ’ 

“I fix all that. I got a young cullud pusson to 
take a note up next mo min’, saying where I’se 
gone, and to stay till I gets my visit out. I ’se al- 
ways wanted to see Californy and seem lak I jes 
couldn’t face Christmas without you. Missy. Is 
you got my Christmas gif ? ” 

“I sent it to you at home.” 

Maumy ’s face fell. 


CHUISTMAS 


99 


‘‘Well, I reckon they’ll keep it fer me.” 

‘ ‘ But, Maumy, you must have spent a great deal 
of money, coming here.” 

“I done had it to spend.” 

“But you wanted it for your funeral.” 

“ Yes’m, that’s so, but I had some more.” 

“More?” 

“When Madame went back home to England 
she done give me some — fer old time ’s sake. ’ ’ 

Caroline’s eyes widened with surprise. 

“Madame Wakefield.” 

“Um-hungh.” 

“For old times’ sake?” 

Maumy caught her breath and frowned. 

“All them times I made tea fer her, an’ corn 
bread an’ cookies. Once in a while I done took 
her a batch when you-all didn’t know; after we 
done got acquainted. Seem lak she relish my 
cookin’. They ain’t no white gal kin make beaten 
biscuits. ’ ’ 

Caroline seemed puzzled. 

“I hope she didn’t think we were sending 
them, ’ ’ she mused. 

“Oh, no’m, she understan’. When she guv me 
the money she say fer me to take a trip some day. 
She say it war restful and educatin’. Yes’m.” 

“Why, it must have been quite a sum.” 

‘ ‘ It war right smart. ’ ’ 

Good taste (even with old Maumy) forbade go- 
ing further, but Caroline pondered over the gift 
for many days. 

Of course there was news of the Major. He 


100 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


was looking well, though sometimes very tired. 
Leigh was gaining all the time; as ‘‘party as a 
flower^’ so Maumy said, and Mayre a great com- 
fort to her mother. 

“Seem lak they done pair -off since yo’ went 
away. Missy, yer Maw and Miss Mayre, an’ the 
Major an’ Miss Leigh. Miss Leigh, she stay in 
the office most of the time, and Miss Mayre, when 
she ain’t helping with the housework, is up in 
the ‘settin’ room’ whippin’ lace with her Maw. 
I’se terrible ’fred some times,” Maumy ’s voice 
dropped to a whisper, “thet she’s gwine be an 
old maid. Don’t no young men come round. No- 
body but Mr. Blair. ’ ’ 

“How is Mr. Blair!” 

“Fine, fine, honey. Some day he gwine run 
way with Miss Leigh; you listen to what old 
Maumy ’s sayin’. Yes’m, he gwine pick her up 
and carry her off right ’fore Major’s eyes.” 

“I hope so, Maumy.” 

“So does I. Miss Leigh was made fer a home 
and a fambly. Look how she brung you all 
up.” 

They were almost ready to say good night when 
Caroline asked : 

“How did you ever find your way up from the 
depot, Maumy!” 

“A cullud genel’man brung me. He was 
cornin’ long with some trunks and things, and I 
splained how I was a stranger in these parts and 
would he give me a lift.” 

Caroline turned her face to smile. It was just 


CHRISTMAS 


101 


as well Maumy had arrived after dark. It was 
not difficult to picture the excitement among the 
girls, had she driven up on the express wagon, 
the bold purple pansies in her bonnet threatened 
by the wind, her startled eyes straining for ^ ‘ The 
Sign of the Tubs. ’ ^ Caroline c.ould see her climb- 
ing down, nodding and smiling her thanks, gather- 
ing her precious belongings about her. 

Christmas was not the ordeal Caroline had 
feared it would be. The Major’s telegram in re- 
gard to Maumy ’s safety was the next best thing 
to hearing his voice. It bridged the intervening 
miles and brought her into closer touch with him. 
There were letters, several of them, and the 
Christmas Box. 

The Christmas Box ! That brought a poignant 
wave of homesickness. Margaret had gone to the 
little lodge by the sea, and Caroline was all alone 
when she opened it. She was almost glad, for 
there was no one to see the tears that spotted 
Leigh’s dainty handwork, her mother’s initialed 
handkerchiefs, the Major’s generous check. 

Her mother had sent an exquisite old locket on 
a slender gold chain. Mayre had made an excel- 
lent water-color of the Peak in his white hood and 
cape. There was also a sketch of Madame Wake- 
field’s house, showing the gardens, asleep under 
snowy blankets, acceptable additions to the room, 
for they were both charmingly framed. 

There was a remembrance for Margaret also. 
Leigh had embroidered, for her, a dainty hand- 
kerchief case. Caroline wondered how Leigh 


102 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


managed to do so mucli, and always with such a 
joyous heart. 

And there was still another box. 

Jimmy and Mrs. Ludlow had not forgotten her. 
She plunged into the contents with amazement. 
There was candy ; late fiction ; some of Mrs. Lud- 
low ^s famous date fingers, — a rough cake cut in 
strips that Caroline had always doted on. And 
later in the day a great box of roses, with Jirmny ^s 
card and best wishes. 

There- were other things that brought sudden 
tears. Little packages from the girls in the house. 
Simple gifts, outweighed in value by love and 
kindness. 

And Maumy^s presence helped. She was com- 
fortably installed at Charity Harrison’s, but she 
spent most of her time at Mrs. Colfax’s assisting 
with the cooking, helping with the housework, or 
puttering about the garden, wondering at flowers 
that dared show their heads above ground in 
December. A phenomenon past her understand- 
ing. 

California delighted her. It was warm and 
sunny again. Rheumatism gradually left her ach- 
ing joints and her eyes brightened. 

‘‘Ef I jes had my fambly out here,” she said 
often to Caroline, ^H’d stay the rest of my days, 
but I reckon Miss Leigh’s need’n’ me right smart, 
and the Major’s missin’ his mawnin’ bacon; 
ain’t nobody but me crispen’ it ’nough to suit 
him. ’ ’ 

Which was very near the truth. 


CHRISTMAS 


103 


Mrs. Colfax’s southern cooked dinner brought 
old memories. It was a feast such as Caroline 
had not seen since she left Virginia; the round 
mahogany board groaned with the weight of 
Charity’s' ‘^Christmas fixin’s.” 

After dinner, in the early twilight, the rooms 
were cleared for dancing. The Bolands had come 
over, Billy wheeling his mother across a green 
common, and the young people in the neighbor- 
hood gathered to share a tree that towered to the 
top of the drawing-room ceiling. 

Before the dancing began, Caroline went over to 
where Mrs. Colfax was visiting with Mrs. Boland. 
A merry fire danced on the hearth, even though 
the sun had shone at summer heat all day. Cali- 
fornia had redeemed her reputation for a bright 
Christmas. 

^‘I wonder if I might speak with Maumy for a 
minute,” she* asked, ‘T am afraid perhaps she 
may be a little lonesome to-day — without Leigh 
and Mayre. It is her first Christmas away from 
them. ’ ’ 

‘‘Of course, dear,” Mrs. Colfax answered. 
“You’ll find her up in the nursery. She asked 
especially to- tend the children this evening. You 
know where it is — third floor, to your right.” 

Mrs. Colfax’s daughter, Mrs. Barker, and her 
children lived in the house. 

Caroline heard Maumy ’s wavering voice croon- 
ing a familiar song before she reached the door. 
She stopped to listen, then peeked in. A golden, 
curly head reposed on Maumy ’s ample bosom, and 


104 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


at her feet a little lad played with his Christmas 
toys. 

Caroline entered softly. Maumy raised a warn- 
ing finger. The lad looked up with an expectant 
smile. Caroline dropped down on the floor be- 
side him. 

For a long time she sat there, looking out into 
the sweetly scented dusk, her arms circling her 
knees, her chin resting on them. 

Maumy went on with her lullaby. Outside 
birds chirped sleepily. Children’s voices came 
softly up the street. Occasionally there was a 
joyous shout, followed by a peal of silvery laugh- 
ter. 

The shadows thickened. The lad picked up his 
toys and went away to bed. Maumy still crooned, 
half under her breath. Now and then Caroline 
glanced up into the tender old eyes above her, 
filled with dusky shadows. She knew that Maumy 
was far away, back in the old Kirtley nursery, 
singing to her own ‘ ‘ chillun. ’ ’ 

She shook off her dreams presently and got up. 
Maumy lifted the sleeping child, put her in a small 
white bed, and drew the blankets tenderly. Caro- 
line ’s eyes were full of tears. 

‘‘Does it make you think of little Hope, 
Maumy?” she asked. 

Maumy ’s hand covered her eyes. A tear 
trickled beneath her old knuckles. 

“Yes, honey,” she said, when she could speak. 
“Miss Hope, she allers beg fer that song.” 

“I remember. Oh, Maumy, you’ve been so 


CHRISTMAS 


105 


good to us all! We love you so. I just ran up 
here to tell you — ’’ 

She threw herself on the breast that had com- 
forted her childish troubles and hid her face for a 
moment. 

‘^And to think of your coming way out here to 
see me, Maumy. ’ ^ 

Maumy loosened the arms that had gone round 
her neck. 

‘T ain’t come to see you,” she said, fearing an- 
other torrent. ‘‘I come to see Charity. Ain’t 
we raised together, till she done went to the 
Harrisons 1 Ain ’t w ’all first cousins 1 ’ ’ 

Caroline pushed Maumy under the nursery 
light and looked at her with teasing eyes. 

‘^Look at me,” she commanded. ‘‘Did you 
come to see me — or Charity?” 

The thick lips, with their withered yellow lining, 
opened in a smile. 

“Well, I reckon if youse boun’ to pin me down 
— it were both — ” 

“Maumy!” 

Maumy reached up and patted the slender 
young shoulders that towered a little above her. 

“Well, I specs, honey, I could ’a’ lived ’thout 
Charity, somehow, but you — ” 

An exclamation in the doorway stopped the 
sentence. Billy Boland stepped into the room. 

“For the love of Mike,” he began, but Maumy ’s 
threatening finger cut the sentence. 

“Don’t you wake my baby,” she scolded. 
“Don’t you dare, Marse Willy.” 


106 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


Out in the hall his laugh broke bounds. 

“What on earth are you hiding up here for, 
Caroline? We’re having a Virginia reel down- 
stairs, and I want you to dance with me. Uncle 
Bildad’s come over with his fiddle (Uncle Bildad 
was Charity’s husband), and we’re going to have 
a ^Down South’ celebration. Some party. I’ll 
say. ’ ’ 

Caroline hesitated. 

“I really ought to stay with Maumy a little 
while, ’ ’ she protested. ‘ ‘ She came all the way out 
here to spend Christmas with me — ” 

Maumy stepped into the hall. 

“You go long with Marse Willy,” she insisted, 
“I ain’t got no time to be bothered now. I’se got 
to dry Charity’s dishes and eat my dinner.” 

With her usual gesture she shooed the young 
people down the stairs, tiptoed back to see if their 
laughter had awakened her baby, turned out the 
light and went down the back stairs to join her 
own people. 


CHAPTER XI 


NEW FRIENDS 

M AUMY left for home early in January, laden 
with bundles, baskets and flowers. Her 
happy face was quite obscured by an armful of 
wild huckleberry branches she was carrying to 
Miss Mayre, and flowers peeped from many par- 
cels. 

‘‘You will have to pay extra for all that thar 
trash,’’ Uncle Bildad said as he helped her on the 
train, and Caroline echoed his sentiments. 

“You really are going to take up an awful lot 
of room, Maumy,” she said. “It doesn’t seem 
quite fair. ’ ’ 

“Never mine, honey, never mine. If the con- 
ductor gets pertenacious. I’ll divide with him,” 
she laughed, as if the gifts of nature were as dear 
to all humanity as to herself. 

By the second week in January the campus had 
taken on new life. Wanderers returned, re- 
freshed by the annual vacation, ready for the 
tasks that lay before them. 

Caroline loved that awakening ; the activity ; the 
colors flashing in the sunshine ; the pleasant nods 
as she passed to and fro from work; the chats 
under the oaks and along the murmuring creek in 


108 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


tlie Glade. She loved the great lecture rooms, 
filled to the doors with attentive, interested stu- 
dents. 

She wrote the Major: 

^ ‘ The thing that I lave best about this wonderful place 
is its impersonality. There is no favoritism, no ‘puir, 
no partiality. Each student stands upon his own feet, 
sinks or swims by his own effort. No one cares a fig 
whether one reaches one ’s goal or not — except one ’s self. 
If one fails, one fails, and slips quietly away. If one 
succeeds, there is no blare of trumpets, only a glad feeling 
that warms the cockles of one’s own heart. 

“People are wont to say that in a smaller institution 
students get in closer touch with teachers, receive more 
personal attention. Perhaps! But I choose the bigger 
place with its bigger outlook ; its bigger men, its limitless 
ideals. 

‘ T am doing very well with my English, though my in- 
structor is right fussy. The other day I got angry and 
didn’t plan out my theme as usual but wrote it right off, 
going over it only for spelling and punctuation. I got an 
A. Hereafter, I shall write them all right off. Awfully 
worried about my history. History is a thing you either 
know — or you don ’t. No chance to exercise gray matter 
and be original. Naturally, I love English best. Oh, 
the joy of being given a theme you like and told to swing 
to!” 


At the beginning of the winter semester Caro- 
line found herself interested in the matter of 
Sororities, despite her intended indifference. She 
was deluged with invitations to teas, to luncheons, 
picnics in the hills, formal dances. 


NEW FRIENDS 109 

Sometimes she came back to Margaret worn out 
with festivities. 

‘^I^m dead tired of being on parade,” she said, 
suppose I have been discussed from the way 
I lace my boots to my great-grandfather’s reputa- 
tion for honesty. I hope the girls don’t find out 
that I once had a great-uncle who ran away from 
his regiment in the Civil War, and hid in a cave. 
The family got him back in time to save his skin, 
but that little detail might be omitted in rushing. 
There’s scarcely time for facts.” 

Margaret laughed. ^‘It is rather strenuous,” 
she remarked. ‘ ^ Going to join Sally’s sorority ? ’ ’ 

‘‘I don’t know. Perhaps if I am asked. The 
bids are out to-morrow. I’m going to wrestle with 
the problem to-night. ’ ’ 

The morrow brought the bid as Margaret had 
prophesied, and for a while the boarding house 
was in a flutter of excitement. 

‘‘You lucky girl! How wonderful! Such a 
marvelous house!” So the comments ran. 

It was after Margaret had closed the door upon 
the last excited guest that she turned to Caroline. 

“I offer you my sincerest congratulations,” 
she said happily. “I hope that you will accept 
this invitation. It will mean so much to you, not 
only during your college days, but in the years to 
come. ’ ’ 

The words were warmly given, with such a 
glad light in the fine face. Margaret was re- 
joicing for her in a privilege that she herself 
could never enjoy. The rare unselfishness and 


no CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


lack of envy revealed a nature genuinely fine. 

There had never been the least show of affection 
between the girls, but Caroline, touched by Mar- 
garet ^s delight and interest, put her arms around 
her neck and kissed her. 

^ ^ Some day, ’ ’ she whispered, ^ ^ I am going to do 
something for you. Something to make you happy 
and glad — as you have made me.’^ 

‘T have done so little, Caroline.’’ 

“I was a stranger and you took me in — ” 
‘^And I was thirsty and you gave me tea — ” 
^^So I did. And Maumy’s cookies.” 

Caroline did weigh the matter of sororities that 
night, seriously and conscientiously. She read a 
recent letter of the Major’s many times. 

‘T do not like to advise you in this matter,” he 
said, ^‘for I am too far away from your activities 
to understand and evaluate them. But I make 
this suggestion: join your sorority for the worth 
of the girls, not for the national standing. Your 
four years’ association with these young women 
will mean much more to you than a casual frater- 
nal friendship later. If you are fortunate enough 
to be chosen by an organization that has standing, 
together with purposeful, interesting women, you 
will find an ideal combination, and one which would 
no doubt add materially to your happiness in and 
out of college. On the other hand, college does 
not necessarily mean fraternities; the words, as 
some are inclined to think, are not synonymous.” 

As usual he had left her free to choose, relying 
upon her training and discrimination. That was 


NEW FRIENDS 


111 


so like tke Major. He had never coerced, never 
dictated. He had simply and tactfully held up 
standards and ideals and let her choose. 

There had been more than one important de- 
cision in her young life. She remembered one in 
particular. Mrs. Ravenel, being a devout Episco- 
palian by belief and inheritance, was insistent 
upon her daughters joining the church at an early 
age. Caroline, more or less opinionated and un- 
ruly in her early teens, rebelled at what she con- 
sidered an infringement upon her personal rights. 

The Major changed her viewpoint by a mere 
suggestion. 

Would you,’’ he asked one night, as they 
visited by the open fire in the office, ‘‘care to live 
in a community where there were no churches ? ’ ’ 

Caroline thought for a moment. 

“No — I don’t know that I should,” she ad- 
mitted. 

“Would you like to think that all over this broad 
land there was no such thing as a house of wor- 
ship?” 

‘ ‘ Certainly not. Major. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ But you are willing to let others provide them 
— carry on the work ? ’ ’ 

“I had never thought of it in that way — I 
thought one had to get religion — ” 

“What is religion, Caroline? Is it anything 
more than service ? ’ ’ 

That was all. The subject was not referred to 
again, but in the spring Caroline was confirmed. 

Late in the afternoon of the day on which the 


112 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 

bids for sororities were in, Caroline sent a short 
note to her father. 

“I have been asked to join the sorority I should choose 
of all others, both for its splendid girls, and for its stand- 
ing here and elsewhere. I think I am going to accept. I 
have thought about it long and prayerfully, and if I do 
join, it will be with an idea of helpfulness and obligation 
— not for what I can get out of it socially. The girls are 
of a high type ; my only fear is as to my ability to meas- 
ure up to them.’’ 

In her letter to Leigh a few days later, she ex- 
plained her real feelings about being a ‘‘pledge.” 

^‘Well, it’s over at last. The rushing. I’m a wreck. 
I haven ’t the least idea whether I have written you lately 
or not. Time has meant only a series of swiftly moving 
events all jumbled together. Do you remember that old 
kaleidoscfope Alison and I used to quarrel over in the 
nursery back home — in Virginia? It’s been like that: 
color and movement and shifting scenes that you took a 
bird’s-eye view of, and scrambled on to something else. 
So wearing. I’m thankful it’s over and I’m really 
pledged. 

“The bids came out Monday morning in the form of 
an immediate delivery letter. Such a time ! The girls 
were waiting in our room, so sweet and interested, and 
quite overwhelmed me with congratulations. 

“The letter invited me, in case I accepted the bid, to 
breakfast at the sorority house on Wednesday morning. 
That’s a formality that starts off the guns, so to speak, 
and welcomes the pledge to the inner circle. 

‘ ‘ The house is situated on the opposite side of the cam- 


NEW FRIENDS *’ 

pus from us, in a nest of fraternity and sorority resi- 
dences. A very imposing place with wide galleries up- 
stairs and down, and a sweeping lawn that runs away 
from the house in terraces. Really very elegant. 

‘ ‘ Perhaps you can picture the excitement that morning. 
The neighborhood reminded me of nothing so much as the 
old ant heap in the back yard at home, the day Major de- 
cided the swarm must find new quarters. Remember 
how they ran and scattered, this way and that and the 
other? So did the girls here. Only they were frantic 
with joy; laughing, joking, hugging each other, compli- 
menting, singing. Mayre would have loved them in their 
bright sweaters and best morning frocks. I wish I had 
words to describe the scene to you. It was so thrilling ! 
I shall never forget it — never ! 

‘‘And not only the girls. The men were equally silly; 
dancing on the sidewalks, marshalling round their 
pledges, proud as peacocks ; giving college yells. 

“And inside our house ! See how naturally I say ourf 
Such kissing and squeezing and saying of nice things! 
You never saw anything like it — not even Down South 
at one of Maumy’s camp meetings. I didn’t feel at all 
strange, for Sally mothered me all during rushing, telling 
me what not to do ; it ’s a terrible time, you know, some- 
times you aren ’t bidden for some silly faux pas. But I 
was telling you about our reception. 

“When we entered the dining room the girls rose and 
sang to us. Then there was more kissing and squeezing 
and our pledge pins were put on us. We celebrated all 
day and at night had a slumber party. Beds were made 
up on the third floor in a finished attic that runs the full 
length of the house — really an entertainment room. All 
the girls came and there were more songs and ‘eats’ and 
college tales, until the day broke rosy and splendid in the 


114 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


east. I don’t remember ever having seen such a sun- 
rise — but once : the time I ran away, ^ars ago. 

“The excitement is all over now, praise be, for I’ve 
had to dig no end to catch up on my work — to say noth- 
ing of sleep. 

“Next week I move. It is going to be hard to leave 
Margaret, but I shall see her very often. I rather think 
she hates losing me, but her Scotch traditions or inheri- 
tance or fear of being thought ^softie’ keeps her from say- 
ing much. She often acts as if she wished she could say 
things as easily as I do, and mean them. I really must 
stop now. My very best to Blair and everybody, and! 
oceans of love to your darling self. 

“P. S. Did Maumy arrive with all her plunder? She 
made me think of those itinerant peddlers that used to go 
through Virginia in the springtime with their wares tied 
on them. Weren’t the huckleberry branches lovely? I 
adore those glossy leaves. We have them in the house 
most of the time. Fancy, in winter ! ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XII 


NEW EXPEKIENCES 

C AROLINE arrived at the sorority house late 
one Saturday afternoon. There was a scurry 
inside the hall as she entered, girls darting up- 
stairs and through the halls, some with suit cases 
in their hands, some deep in armchairs, others in 
books. 

In the drawing-room a piano gave forth a merry 
tinkle and a slender, dark girl danced gracefully 
to its rhythmic notes. 

There was a rush toward Caroline. Numerous 
arms were flung about her ; numerous voices cried, 
‘‘So you’re here, old dear. Welcome home.” 

A tall, fair girl dressed in a traveling suit came 
running down the stairs. She took Caroline’s 
hand and shook it warmly. It was Hannah Ros- 
ser, the house president. 

“So you have come, Caroline,” she said cor- 
dially. “I am just leaving for the week-end at 
home — across the bay. So sorry to leave you on 
your first night, but the girls will look after you. 
Who will show Caroline to her room and find her 
place at dinner!” she asked, turning toward the 
drawing-room. 


116 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


The girl who was dancing came forward, her 
hand extended. 

^^May IV’ she said. ‘‘Where do her things go, 
Hannah? Have you decided upon her room?’’ 

“Yes, for the time I shall have to put her with 
Susan Stirling. Third floor, second door to your 
right.” 

Caroline fancied that she caught the ghost of 
a smile flickering between Evelyn Thomas and the 
girl who had been playing the piano. 

“Susan? Oh, yes, of course.” It was still 
Tommy who spoke. 

“Freshmen always room with Juniors, Caro- 
line,”' Hannah explained, picking up her satchel 
and glancing at her wrist watch. “My goodness, 
I have just three minutes to catch my car. Bye, 
everybody! Don’t let Caroline get homesick. 
See you all Monday.” 

With a nod and a wave she was gone and the 
front door banged after her. 

“Better prepare Caroline before you open 
Susan’s door, Tommy,” one of the girls called, 
and Tommy, laughing, picked up the bags Caro- 
line had dropped. 

“Let me do that,” Caroline said. 

A twinkle appeared in Tommy’s blue-black eyes. 

“Where are all the Freshies this afternoon?” 
she asked, then spying one, crooked her finger 
mischievously. 

“Ellen, help here,” she called. 

An attractive young girl with a homesick air 
came forward meekly. 


NEW EXPERIENCES 


117 . 


‘ ‘ Oh, please don’t ask her to carry them, i will, 
myself,” Caroline interposed, and picking np the 
bags, made a dash for the stairway. 

She was quite breathless when she reached the 
top. Tommy took the steps more leisurely. 

A rap at the second door to the right failed of 
response. Tommy opened the door and, stepping 
back, waved Caroline forward. 

With the first glance, Caroline’s heart dropped 
to her toes. Two windows to the north had been 
left wide, and the soiled, half-frayed window 
blinds slapped the casement noisily. Tommy 
lowered the windows with a bang. 

‘ ^ Heavens, but Susan is careless ! ’ ’ she scolded. 
‘‘Hannah has told her about those blinds flapping 
that way a dozen times ! ’ ’ 

The room gave evidence of more carelessness. 
There were two beds ; mere cots. One stood white 
and neat against the south wall. It was the only 
neat thing in sight. The other was crowded with 
coats, sweaters, tennis rackets and balls, school 
books and a half-empty box of candy. Every chair 
was draped; a raincoat adorned one, a bathrobe 
another; the third held a bottle of shoe polish, a 
nail buifer and a fur choker. 

“Guess Susan must be off on one of her bug 
hunts,” Tommy said, sweeping a chair of its 
burdens and sitting down comfortably. 

“A bug hunt?” 

Tommy pointed to the window sill. It was lined 
with fruit jars of various sizes. Caroline stepped 
closer. Squirming, wriggling beetles crawled up 


118 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 

the side of one ; bees in another. A third encased 
blue flies, buzzing angrily. 

^‘Goodness! Does she sleep with those things 
in hereT’ Caroline asked, her face in a frown. 

‘ ‘ Oh, yes ; Susan is bug crazy. Her father’s the 
great naturalist — Stirling of — ” She mentioned 
one of the largest Eastern colleges. ‘‘You must 
have heard of him. ” 

“What’s she doing way out here?” 

Tommy shrugged. ‘ ‘ Got tired of girls ’ colleges. 
They bored her. She wanted the wild and woolly 
West and coeducation. Awfully queer — Susan. ’ ’ 

“I should think she must be. Go on, tell me 
more — the worst.” 

“Oh, she’s a good sort. You will like her in 
spite of herself. She’s so bright she sparkles. 
We’re terribly proud of her with all her queer- 
ness.” 

At that moment there was a step on the stair 
and the door opened. 

A slender boyish girl of about Caroline’s own 
height walked in. She was dressed in mountain 
garb : a rather short skirt, a worn green sweater, 
muddy rubber boots. She wore no hat. Her head 
was wreathed mth the greatest mass of taffy- 
colored hair that Caroline had ever seen. It was 
drawn straight back from her face and coiled in 
loose untidy ropes. A prominent forehead with a 
well-defined swell at the temples seemed to bulge 
away from it. Her eyes were blue and keen; her 
nose straight ; her mouth red and attractive. 

“Here’s your roommate, Caroline Ravenel,” 


NEW EXPERIENCES 


119 


Tommy called, making the introduction easily. 

‘‘Oh, awfully glad to see you,’^ Susan said, 
taking a long stride across the room and clasping 
Caroline's hand in one hearty shake. “Excuse 
the looks of things, won’t you? I went off this 
morning before breakfast. I forgot to take my 
lunch along, too. Starved. ’ ’ 

When she smiled shet showed two rows of 
straight even teeth that lent charm to an other- 
wise plain face. 

“I’m afraid if you don’t get some of these 
things out of the way, Caroline will have to move 
into the closet,” Tommy remarked. 

“Just a minute. Look here. I’ve got some 
wonderful specimens. See this beauty!” From 
a deep sweater pocket she brought forth a long 
spotted snake that opened its mouth and curled 
its tail lazily. 

Tommy screamed. Caroline’s southern spirit 
rose. 

“Do you mean to say that you are going to 
keep that thing in here?” she demanded. “If 
you are, I reckon I’ll go back to my boarding 
house.” 

“Oh, do you mind?” Susan asked sweetly. 
“It’s really only an eel: of the Ophichthyidae 
family — see, it has no caudal fin. Heaven knows 
how it ever got so far from its own warm seas. 
I’m going to take it down in a minute and put it in 
a tub. I hope it will live until Monday. Rath- 
boum will be mad about it. Are you really afraid 
of it? Tommy, don’t be silly! Well, I’ll take it 


120 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 

over to the bathroom and let it swim while I dress 
for dinner.’’ 

There was something fresh and invigorating 
about her, for all she was weary. She spoke in 
quick, staccato tones softened with a New England 
accent. She moved with a corresponding quick- 
ness, her keen eyes smiling at the girl’s discom- 
fort. 

Caroline followed Tommy to the door. ‘Tf you 
don’t mind, I think I will go downstairs with you. 
Perhaps I may decide to go back to my roommate. 
We were very congenial.” 

A vision of Margaret’s immaculate corner in 
the old room rose before her eyes and the tears 
came. 

‘‘Oh, don’t get low, now,” Tommy advised. 
“You’ll like us in a few days — Susan too. She 
isn’t so bad. If you don’t get on, Hannah will 
move you as soon as she can. She’s awfully con- 
siderate. ’ ’ She linked her arm in Caroline ’s ; to- 
gether they went into the hall. 

“Tidy up the room, won’t you, Susan,” she 
called over her shoulder, — Susan was busy with 
the snake in the bathroom. 

“Sure,” came the encouraging answer. “It’ll 
look like a million in a minute ! ’ ’ 

The drawing-room had filled with girls. Tommy 
began introductions. “You remember Barbara 
Blue and Augusta McGruder, Virginia Dale, don’t 
you? You met them all at rushing time and at 
the slumber party.” 

Caroline nodded cordially. 


NEW EXPERIENCES 121 

In the corner at a grand piano a girl was play- 
ing dreamily. Tommy called to her. 

^‘Stop the sob stuff, Shade; Caroline’s low. 
Give us ‘Dixie’!” 

Caroline looked startled. “Please don’t,” she 
begged. “I really couldn’t stand that — to- 
night!” 

The girl left the piano and came forward. A 
winsome smile lighted her face. Shu de Li Win- 
ston was the most popular girl in the house. And 
deservedly. She had an interesting history. 
Born in China during her father’s term at the 
American Embassy, she had imbibed much of the 
kindliness, the sympathy, the tact of her adopted 
race. There was an indescribable charm about 
her. When the girls refrained from calling her 
Shude, which was a travesty upon her beautiful 
name, they construed Winston to “Winsom” and 
the name fitted. She was a gifted musician, 
though she did not know one note from the other. 
From childhood she had picked out chords, 
turning them into melodies for the pleasure 
of herself and friends. She was never too 
tired to play. “What shall it be, girls?” she in- 
variably asked, when they led her to the piano, 
where her hands wandered over the keys for 
hours. 

“Low?” she said, coming toward Caroline, her 
face bright with its ingratiating smile. “Not 
really?” 

“You should have seen Susan’s room, Shude. 
A fright. Enough to make anybody hang the 


122 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


crepe! What do you suppose she brought home 
to-night? A snake!’’ 

A shout went around the room. 

‘‘Look out that she doesn’t leave him or one of 
her precious toads in your coat pocket when she 
borrows it, Caroline,” a girl chimed in. “The 
other day she helped herself to my fur coat, and 
when I put it on there was a mouse in the pocket. 
Ugh! I ran a mile before I stopped, mousie with 
me!” 

There was another peal of laughter. 

Caroline’s face was a study. 

“You mean to say she keeps such things in her 
room?” she asked. 

“Oh, that’s mild! Caterpillars, hoptoads, 
ants — ” 

Shu de Li slipped her hand into Caroline’s; 
together they had dropped down on a broad win- 
dow seat. “It isn’t half so bad as they are mak- 
ing out,” she whispered. “We always rag the 
freshmen. Pretend you don’t mind and they’ll 
stop.” 

Some one asked Tommy to dance. “Get your 
costume,” the girls begged; dinner still was an 
hour away. It took some coaxing. Tommy was 
tired; she had lessons; her costume was ripped 
apart. But in the end she consented. 

“And, Tom,” they called after her, as she 
reached the stairs, ‘ ‘ do the orange teeth stunt for 
Caroline. Maybe she’ll decide to stay, if you 
will.” 

Tommy shook her head. 



Evelyn bowed and threw her rose into Caroline’s lap. 
Page 123. 





4 -1 ^ ' T ' — -,4 ► * ] 

.* ^■‘ .; ' ■ ^*>-f' -• ■ ,■-; 

i- ’^ • ' -At- '■ ^>* - ■ i* '-ie. VaIJ 

’^a •*s* fs,, 

1 - 't< ... J^5 


s 


— ft. 


iii 


^ X 'V . ft *. » 

- .J.?/ r ' V ■ . ^ . 

|'V*V'A ;j-.;- V . 

1-^ V-^i*>^-^ “r , 

->v * ;•« i '. ^ 



♦ 




" I . 

*r 

\ 


!*« ■ ■. - > » H i 

*> "F*^ lA . • ■ ’ f 


'S 

4 


t*; 

fi 


* I 

n 


i « ' 


E^l 




-V . 
.M 'r\>.- 






\ 


* « 

^ *■* ^ 

1 ;► 

* ■ 

1 ,• 

• ' 1 

v» 

Af; ' r- 


^ ‘ 

V\* « V 

E& 

:r’ -.a » 

. v"* 

^ ■ '0 . > 

- - 

* ^ 


A 

T V I . i 

u : 


- k 

-*r* 


V « 

• f<- ( ,• 


> 


-■■■*, .’ i 

i' *»*! 

■’ *■• .' >' 


vw: = 


. 1 


>' 





. ,v- h 


I - .* 


'•■*' ■'.v.'.'^i' ■>>->'$W. 




« *■ ♦. 


.‘I f r 


. I 




6 






f-»'' 


*>*.. ’ 




t=<ir 





^ ; 


■ « u. 



4 r 




f>-4 





mi4m 




NEW EXPERIENCES 123 

‘ ‘ Oh, be a sport, Tom, ’ ’ they chorused. ‘ ‘ Come 
on ; do your duty. ’ ’ 

Tommy was back presently, robed in a black 
Spanish costume that set off her dark beauty. A 
deep red rose nestled in the waves of her midnight 
hair, a plumed fan of the same hue gave a glow to 
the somber laces. A murmur of admiration went 
round the room. 

‘^Tom^s almost a professional,’’ Shu de Li 
whispered to Caroline as she went to the piano. 
‘ ‘ Takes her exercises as regularly as night comes. 
Watch her when she bends.” 

Tommy made her low ballroom bow and wafted 
a kiss toward Caroline. 

Caroline had never seen more graceful dancing. 
The lithe young body swayed like a willow in the 
wind; it glided and whirled; bent backward in 
graceful curves that drew a riot of applause from 
the entranced audience ; it posed and pivoted. 

The music stopped in a blur of minor chords. 
Caroline sat up and drew a long quivering sigh. 

^‘How marvelous!” she whispered, afraid to 
break the silence that had hushed the room. 

The girls awakened as if from a trance. 

‘‘Encore! Encore! Encore!” they cried. 

Evelyn bowed and threw her rose into Caroline’s 
lap. 

“Encore, encore, encore! The urn dance, 
please, Tom; it’s so wonderful!” 

“You’re honored,” Barbara Blue whispered in 
Caroline’s ear. “That’s the dance she gave at 
the Greek last week. Campus went wild. ’ ’ 


124 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


The air was a mad clamor when she finished. 
‘ ‘ The orange stunt, ’ ’ the crowd begged. ^ ‘ Please, 
Tommy dear.’^ 

‘ ^ Oh, girls, I must study ! I ^m back in my Eng- 
lish. ’ ’ 

A girl thrust forth a notebook. 

* ‘ Take my notes, ’ ’ she begged. ‘ ‘ Please. J ust 
the orange stunt — no more ! ^ ’ 

Tommy retired to another room. When she 
emerged, she was dressed in a black skirt and a 
white shirt waist. Her hair had been pushed back 
in straight lines from her thin face. It gave her 
an odd, old-maidish look. 

But it was her mouth that brought forth peals of 
laughter. Orange peel had been cut in strips to 
represent teeth, — long, pointed, uncanny teeth 
that protruded grotesquely from the parted lips. 

The music changed to, ‘T Love You Truly.’’ 
Tommy began her crude halting movements. The 
girls screamed and shrieked. The fun grew 
furious. Caroline found herself mopping tears 
from her eyes ; gloom had turned to laughter. 

Tommy had barely finished when Susan ap- 
peared in the doorway. 

‘ ‘ My word, but you ’re a noisy bunch ! ’ ’ she cried, 
grinning sympathetically. 

Shu de Li began to play a fox trot. Susan pre- 
sented herself before Caroline. With her hand on 
her heart and a low bow, she said, ‘‘Will you honor 
me?” 

Instantly Caroline felt her wholesomeness. 
There was a woodsy odor about her, a freshness 


NEW EXPERIENCES 


125 


that came with a thorough tubbing and clean 
thoughts. Caroline soon learned that while Susan 
might be untidy in her room, her person was never 
neglected. Her clothes might be torn, sadly in 
need of mending, but they were always sweetly 
clean. 

At dinner Caroline found herself between 
Tommy and Shu de Li. It compensated for 
having to bear with Susan’s eccentricities. She 
was beginning to feel at home. Occasionally she 
raised her eyes to the head of the table where the 
house mother presided: an aristocratic looking 
woman in the early fifties. The girls adored Mrs. 
Rankin. Her quiet dignity was never a damper, 
rather a source of pride. 

‘‘She tones us up,” Barbara Blue always said, 
and Barbara knew tone when she saw it. She was 
bom to it. 

“Who is that very somber-looking girl at the 
end of the table — ■ next to Mrs. Rankin, the dark 
one?” Caroline whispered to Tommy, when they 
had come to their dessert. 

“That? Oh, that’s Marian Burdick. She and 
Babs Blue room together and hit it off about as 
well as if they were married.” 

“They are happy?” 

‘ ‘ They rag like the dickens. ’ ’ 

“Why do they room together?” 

‘ ‘ Hannah thinks Marian holds Babs down. She 
does. Babs is very uncertain — too popular. ’ ’ 

“She’s very stunning.” 

“Isn’t she? Never matters what she wears. 


126 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


Comes back from the city with a twenty-five-cent 
brooch, pins it on a fluffy blouse, gives herself a 
pat, a whack, and a push, and presto ! looks like 
a million. Crazy about clothes. If her mother 
sends her a new gown she takes it with her from 
the express office to the campus, puts it in her 
locker and changes between classes. Can’t wait 
to see how she’ll look in it. Regular vamp.” 

‘‘Is she a good student?” 

‘ ‘ She has brains — if she ’d use them. ’ ’ 

“And Marian Burdick?” 

The ringing of the telephone interrupted the 
question. 

“Will Caroline answer, please?” one of the 
older girls asked. 

“Freshman duty,” Shu de Li said as Caroline 
rose. 

After dinner there was more dancing. Some 
one took Shu de Li’s place at the piano and she 
danced with Caroline. At seven-thirty the groups 
began to scatter. 

“Date, to-night?” one asked another. 

There were nods and smiles. 

Caroline found herself going up the stairs with 
Shu de Li’s arm around her. 

“Come over soon,” Shu de Li said, as they 
parted at the third landing, “I’m right across the 
hall. I’m going out to-night — ” 

“So am I,” Caroline responded. “A Deke 
dance.” 

“Biddy Webster, I suppose.” 

‘ ‘ How did you know ? ’ ’ 


NEW EXPERIENCES 


127 


^^Babs Blue. He^s one of ber secret sorrows.’’ 

Caroline smiled as she entered her room. 
Susan’s cleaning was something of a joke. True, 
the clothes had disappeared. Some of them were 
rolled up and laid on the closet shelf. The shoe 
blacking, buffer and neckpiece had been trans- 
ferred from chair to table. The tennis balls 
adorned the bureau. 

Caroline’s observation was inlterrupted by 
Susan herself. She entered the room wildly, her 
hand clapped to her forehead. 

‘‘Heavens! I’ve done the most awful thing,” 
she said, dropping into the nearest chair and 
gazing up at Caroline in a dazed manner. “I’ve 
accepted two invitations to the Psi U dance to- 
night. Two ! Imagine ! How I ever did it, good- 
ness knows. I told Scott Hathaway ten days ago 
that I’d go with him, and forgot all about it. He 
just telephoned — so did Ned Farrar; he asked 
me yesterday. Well, I’ve got to get busy and 
find a woman. ’ ’ 

She jumped up and ran down the hall. Caro- 
line heard her calling, ‘ ‘ Shude, got a date to-night! 
Oh, bother! How about you, Babs! I might 
have known. Tom! — Of course, Warren never 
fails you. Good Lord, what am I going to do!” 

She paused for half a minute and turned to 
Barbara’s door. 

“Where’s Marian!” she asked. 

“Here,” came a low answer. 

She went in. 

“Marian, do me a favor,” she said, flinging an 


128 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


arm around her. say no. I^m in the 

dickens of a fix.’’ She explained the situation. 
‘ ‘ You ’ll go, won ’t you f Come on, there ’s a dear. ’ ’ 
Marian fixed enraged eyes upon her. 

^^Most certainly not. I’m no cat’s-paw. You 
know no one ever asks me out. ’ ’ 

^‘Here’s your chance. You may have Farrar. 
He’s the nicest. I’ll tell him — Heaven sakes, 
what shall I tell him, Babs? You lie gracefully. 
Help me out.” 

‘^Thanks a lot. You might say — Do you 
know him, Marian ? ’ ’ she broke otf . 

Marian shook her head. 

‘‘Say she’s your house guest and you had to 
have a man for her. ’ ’ 

“Fine!” 

“Say she’s from the farm (Stanford was known 
as the farm) ; one of the sisters. Later she can 
move up. See I ’ ’ 

“Perfectly. You will, Marian I” 

“I will not.” 

“Oh, please. She may wear your yellow taf- 
feta, mayn’t she, Babs?” 

“Of course,” Babs replied inditferently. 

Shu de Li came down the hall. 

“I think you’re foolish not to, Marian,” she 
said. “You are always complaining about not 
having a date. Here’s your chance. You may 
have my blue Chinese coat to wear with the dress. 
Ned ’s a peach. Y ou ’ll like him. ’ ’ 

For an instant Marian’s eyes gleamed. Shu 
de Li always carried the day. 


NEW EXPERIENCES 


129 


“Would you really go, if you were I, SliudeP^ 

“Certainly. Wait a minute.’’ She came run- 
ning from her room with the coat, and opening 
the closet door brought out the yellow dress. 
“Look,” she cried. “Aren’t they stunning? 
Here’s your chance for an everlasting crush.” 

Marian looked at the things longingly. 

“All right,” she said, “I will. Who’ll do my 
hair?” 

“I’ve always been considered right good at 
that, ’ ’ Caroline offered. She had been looking on 
with amazed eyes. “But we’ll have to hurry, for 
I’ve an engagement myself.” 

She glanced away from Marian in time to see 
Barbara Blue’s eye close in a knowing wink. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE SORORITY HOUSE 

T hat first night in the sorority house was a 
revelation to Caroline. 

In the boarding house, Margaret ^s dignity had 
limited the girls ’ visits to the room. They seldom 
ran in. There was no borrowing, no congregating 
for gossip, no fudge making. Once in a while, 
when Margaret was at the library studying, 
Caroline made tea for them and passed around 
cookies, hut they seldom lingered longer than to 
dry the cups and saucers and put the room to 
rights. 

Reared, too, in a family where dignity was the 
keynote, Caroline stood aghast at the familiarity 
that thrust itself upon Marian Burdick ^s en- 
trance into college society. Girls came trooping 
from the first and second floorSj^ eager to have a 
share in making her popular. 

“Don’t you want my yellow silk hose, Marian?” 
one called^ and another^ “Those satin slippers of 
mine just match Bab’^s dress; take ’em if you 
like!” They even brought lingerie. Soft silken 
stuff, fragrant as flowers. 

Marian sat before the mirror while Caroline 


THE SORORITY HOUSE 


131 


combed and brushed. The long black hair, at- 
tractive in its burnished, wiry way, was coiled be- 
comingly. The girls were loud in their praise. 
‘‘Stunning!’^ they exclaimed, running back and 
forth to see how things were progressing. ‘^My, 
what a difference it makes in you ! Now always 
do your hair that way, Marian. Get Caroline to 
show you. ’ ^ 

Gradually Marian began to stretch butterfly 
wings. She was not a plain girl, by any means. 
Her features were small and even. Her forehead, 
centered evenly with a peak of dark hair, highly 
intellectual ; her eyes large and glowing. Shed of 
unnecessary clothing, her slender form took on a 
graceful outline. 

^^My word, your own mother wouldn’t know 
you!” Susan said, eying her proudly. ‘T see my 
finish. Farrar’s gone!” She wafted a kiss 
through the window in the direction of his fra- 
ternity house and turned Marian about for further 
inspection. 

say, girls, won’t she make a hit? You dance 
well, too, Marian; light as a feather.” 

Compliments flew thick and fast. A flush 
warmed Marian’s cheeks ; her eyes danced. Some 
one called Mrs. Rankin. She noted the change 
with pleasure. 

The breakfast table hummed the next morning 
with the triumph. 

Really,” Susan said between crunches of toast, 
‘Gt was wonderful! Ned took to her like a flash. 
She struck his hobby before they reached the 


132 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


dance: photography, wasn’t it, Marian? They’re 
going off this afternoon to take some shots. ’ ’ 

The first two or three weeks were daily periods 
of adjustment for Caroline. Sometimes she won- 
dered why she had moved, but her love for the 
girls grew, and that, together with her loyalty, 
compensated for things lost. 

Susan was even more of a trial than she had 
promised. There were moments when Caroline 
felt that she could not live in the disorderly room. 
Susan’s faults were legion. She was irrespons- 
ible. She was always late; always out of money; 
always borrowing. On the other hand, she was 
as eager to lend as she was to borrow. She was 
never too busy to work a hard problem (a genius 
in mathematics) ; to translate Greek or Latin; to 
do a favor. 

She was so clean-minded that one forgave her 
shortcomings. She was innately refined; courte- 
ous, in some ways thoughtful. And she loved the 
outdoors with a passion that consumed her. 

‘ ‘ See what I brought you. Cal dear, ’ ’ she would 
say, after walking off with Caroline’s umbrella, 
sweater, or best hat. The gift might be only a 
flower, a yellow plume from an acacia tree, a 
bunch of gorgeous leaves, bu^ it was presented as 
a treasure, and as such Caroline accepted it. The 
room always held something of the outside ; vases 
were never empty — and never full ; that was an- 
other of Susan’s eccentricities. Two or three 
flowers satisfied her; one bright leaf gave her as 
much joy as ten. 


THE SORORITY HOUSE 133 


She had more friends among the men than any 
girl in the house. They liked to talk with her; 
liked her intelligent comments, her good-natured 
criticisms. She had fewer ‘‘crushes^’ than Bar- 
bara Blue, or even Shu de Li Winston; she was 
too interested in topics of general interest to be- 
come sentimental. 

On the whole, however, she was less of a trial 
than Barbara. It did not take Caroline long to 
discover that Barbara did not like her. If she 
entered a room when Barbara was talking, Bar- 
bara stopped and moved away. If Barbara 
planned a frolic, she left Caroline out. 

As the weeks grew into months, the situation 
was made worse by a certain rivalry between them. 
Caroline grew in popularity. Girls who had sat 
at Barbara's feet and admired her clothes, her 
style, her savoir faire, transferred their admira- 
tion to Caroline. 

‘T donT know what on earth IVe done to Bar- 
bara, ’ ’ Caroline said one evening in desperation to 
Shu de Li. Shu de Li^s room was the only one in 
the house that boasted an open fire, and the girls 
were toasting marshmallows on the red coals. 

‘‘Don’t you, really. Cal?” Mrs. Ravenel would 
have been appalled .o hear her daughter’s name 
contracted so unceremoniously. 

“No, Shu de Li.” 

Shu de Li always loved the sound of her name 
on Caroline’s lips. She pronounced it so per- 
fectly, “Shu de Lee,” giving each syllable equal 
value. 


134 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


‘‘You took Biddy away from her.’’ 

“Took him away — ” 

“He was her shadow last year. Everybody 
here in the house thought they were engaged. ’ ’ 

“Oh, Shu de Li, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you 
tell me ? ” 

Shu de Li shrugged. 

“All’s fair in love — ” 

“But I’m not a hit In love with him. I only 
like him.” 

‘ ‘ Evidently he prefers you. ’ ’ 

The next Sunday evening Caroline tried her 
best to bring Biddy and Barbara together. WThen 
Biddy dropped in for tea — men were always 
dropping into the sorority house for tea on Sun- 
day evenings — she went upstairs and knocked on 
Barbara’s door. “WonT you come down and 
help me make cinnamon toast for three hungry 
men?” she asked. 

Barbara rose from the couch where she had been 
reading a novel, went to the mirror, gave herself 
several pats, fluffed her hair, threw a fetching 
silk scarf around her shoulders and turned toward 
the stairs. She did not inquire who the men were. 
Men always meant conquest to Barbara. She did 
not see Biddy until she had spoken with Billy Bo- 
land and Billy’s friend. Smith Talmage. WLen 
she spied him her face paled a little. 

It was a custom in the house to engage seats in 
desirable places for Sunday night tea by means 
of signs pinned conspicuously. To-night the 
davenport before the fire read: “Caroline and 


THE SORORITY HOUSE 


135 


Billy; Smith and Shu de Li; Biddy and Babs.’^ 

Barbara read the notices with a fluttering heart. 
She seemed embarrassed. 

‘‘Babs/’ Caroline called, on the way to the 
kitchen, ‘‘entertain Biddy for a minute while 
Shude and I make the toast. Billy and Smith will 
help us.’’ 

It took some time to cream the sugar and cin- 
namon, prepare salad and hot cocoa. When the 
four returned to the living room, Biddy and Babs 
were in a heated conversation. They were flushed 
and ill at ease. 

Biddy jumped up and took the tray from Caro- 
line; Billy got out a nest of tables and put them 
before the guests. Supper was served. 

It was later that night that Caroline answered 
a rap at her bedroom door. Barbara stood out- 
side, her silken rose-colored bathrobe clutched 
about her. 

“I just wanted to say,” she began, white with 
anger, “that when I want Biddy Webster to dance 
attendance, I can get him without your help. 
Kindly keep out of my affairs after this. ’ ’ 

Caroline shrank back as if from a blow. Susan 
opened sleepy eyes and inquired about the trouble. 

“Trouble is, I don’t want any little match- 
makers using me for copy,” Babs flung. 

“Oh, Barbara, how horrid of you!” Susan 
called, thoroughly awake. “Go back to your 
room. You’re not going to bully Caroline like 
that. I won ’t stand for it. ’ ’ 

“Stop, Susan, please — ” Caroline began. 


136 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


But Barbara bad crossed the ball and noisily 
slaromed ber door. 

Barbara did not appear at breakfast. Marian 
carried up ber toast and coffee on a tray. Sbe 
gave Caroline a baugbty look as sbe passed ber. 
Marian and Babs might quarrel furiously, but they 
always managed to champion each other in outside 
difficulties. On the campus Caroline passed Biddy. 
He went by ber and then came back. His face bad 
lost its sunny smile. 

^‘Wbat kind of an affair were you staging last 
night!’’ be asked. was invited to tea with 
you. ’ ’ 

‘ ^ So were Billy and Smith, ’ ’ Caroline retaliated, 
tired of the whole disagreeable affair. 

Biddy, hurt, turned on bis heel and walked 
swiftly in the other direction. Caroline reached 
ber English lecture with ber bead held high. 

A rather unhappy week followed. Barbara 
was barely civil. Caroline comforted herself by 
spending as much time as possible with Margaret. 
Occasionally sbe went home with ber and sat for a 
while in the large clean room overlooking the bay. 
Margaret’s companionship was a healing balm. 

Sometimes they talked of the future. When 
Caroline spoke of next year” Margaret’s face 
clouded. 

There won’t be a ‘next year’ here, for me, 
Caroline,” she remarked. “I shall have to teach 
for two or three years before I can come back and 
take up law.” 

“Perhaps, as my father often says, a way will 


THE SORORITY HOUSE 137 

open,’’ Caroline suggested hopefully. ‘T remem- 
ber once when I was a child and Major was dread- 
fully ill, we sold our home almost over night, and 
moved to Colorado. I sometimes wonder if things 
aren’t fore-ordained — that angels keep giant 
blue prints in heaven and mark out mortals’ 
destinies. ’ ’ 

Margaret was skeptical. 

^‘Anyway, the idea would make a good play,” 
Caroline said with her usual utilitarian spirit. 
‘Tt gives me an idea.” 

There had been but little time in the days’ 
routine to think of plays, but germs lay dormant 
in the busy brain, ready to spring into life when 
the time was ripe. Caroline never for a moment 
lost sight of her goal. Some day she would be a 
playwright. 

Often Margaret came to the sorority house to 
lunch. Sometimes Caroline brought other girls 
from the boarding house, rather to their surprise. 

‘^We supposed when Caroline joined a sorority 
she would have no time for us,” they said. ^‘But 
it doesn’t seem to have made the slightest differ- 
ence in her.” 

They scarcely realized the effort Caroline put 
forth to be kind, for sorority girls naturally flock 
together. When she went to the boarding house, 
she left her sorority pin at home, she never 
flaunted it. She seldom wore it on the campus, 
proud as she was of it. She had learned to dread 
the look that crept into the eyes of the girls who 
had been dropped as noneligibles. She knew 


138 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


many of them ; some had shared the rushing with 
her, falling out of the race, hurt and humiliated. 

And yet the sorority meant more to her each day. 
Initiation had opened new avenues of thought, 
stimulated ideals. She felt her obligations more 
keenly, not only to the sisters^ but to the whole 
campus. She saw girls made stronger througn 
association ; better students ; better friends. She 
found that the give and take of sorority life 
strengthened character. 

There were a number of cases in point : On the 
third floor there was a large sunny apartment 
known as the flatiron room, because of its odd 
shape. Three girls shared it : Estelle Moreland, a 
Senior; Nell Neally, a Junior, and Betty Carew, a 
Sophomore. The older girls were of the highest 
type on the campus, well-born, excellent students, 
prominent in college activities. 

Betty Carew ’s freshman days had been a series 
of escapades and frivolities. Barely eighteen in 
her sophomore year, too pretty and irresponsible 
to attend a coeducational institution, her history 
had been rather unenviable. Her indiscretions 
were never serious enough to merit dismissal, 
but they were harmful enough to bring discredit 
upon the house. 

Estelle Moreland volunteered to leave her com- 
fortable quarters on the second floor — a privilege 
enjoyed only by Seniors — and room with Betty. 
Nell Neally suggested the flatiron room, and of- 
fered to share it with the other two. 

The friendship that ripened between the three 


THE SORORITY HOUSE 


139 


surprised the house. Six months ^ association with 
high-minded, conscientious girls had raised 
Betty ^s standards, sorted her values, made a stu- 
dent of her. The flatiron room became the most 
popular place in the house. Betty’s allowance, a 
shameful amount for a young girl, had turned it 
into a luxurious apartment. A large closet was 
converted into a bathroom; charming rugs 
covered the floor; the three beds, alike (Betty’s 
in the middle), were handsome and comfortable. 
Flowers bloomed in the windows; books filled 
cases; Betty’s baby grand piano fitted into the 
flatiron as if the corner had been made for 
it. 

Silly flirtations ceased. For two hours every 
afternoon, Betty’s music (she was very gifted), 
filled the halls and bedrooms. Her outside en- 
gagements lessened. Her evening trips to the 
library were made with Estelle and Nell; her 
visits to the city across the bay always chaper- 
oned. 

Caroline loved the flatiron room. It was a 
haven after her own, strewn with Susan’s belong- 
ings. Often she flung herself into one of Betty’s 
deep chairs and solaced herself with Betty’s 
music. 

‘‘You don’t know what a joy it is to come in 
here,” she said one day to Betty. 

“Yes, I think I do know,” Betty said; “it’s so 
far from the girls, so quiet and restful that one 
has time to think. I am sure that my whole 
future will be colored and glorified by these four 


140 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


walls — and the friendship of the girls who have 
made the old room livable.’^ 

And influence had been brought to bear upon 
Barbara Blue. She had been closeted for hours 
with Hannah Rosser ; an apology being the result. 
It was not an apology from the heart, but rather 
from a perturbed conscience. One of those apolo- 
gies that vindicate one’s self rather than the one 
offended. 

‘T am sorry,” Barbara said to Caroline, ^Hhat 
you made so much out of what I said the other 
night and have been so cool to me. You’ll have to 
get used to my disposition and not take offense 
when I explode. My middle name ’s dynamite. ’ ’ 
Caroline’s acceptance did not help matters. 
‘‘Don’t mention it,” she said; “the matter was 
really of so little consequence.” Then, seeing 
Barbara ’s chagrin, she took her hand and grasped 
it in a tight squeeze. “Let’s forget it,” she said, 
and smiled her charming, winsome smile. 


CHAPTER XIV 


CAEOLINE CAUSES A PANIC 

C OMING in from tlie theater rather late one 
night, Caroline found the house in a tremor 
of excitement. Bedroom doors were ajar; lights 
gleamed under those that were closed. 

‘‘What’s the matter?” she asked, stopping to 
speak with Shu de Li. 

^‘Nothing, my dear,” Shu de Li’s tones were 
scornful. “Nothing at all. Tommy came home 
a little while ago and took a fit down in the liv- 
ing room; on the way to the kitchen for a drink 
she thought she saw a man dodge into the dining 
room. Izzy Morrison telephoned the police. 
Awful row. Ridiculous ! ’ ’ 

“That’s all right for you, Shude, never afraid 
of anything, hut I tell you I did see him — and 
one of the men that came found a window open.” 
Tommy’s tones were indignant. 

“Shude thinks because she lived in China, 
where everything is as safe as a church, nothing 
can happen here — ” 

“Not at all, my dear. I only say that a burglar 
wouldn’t scare me. They’re like snakes; let 
them prowl and they won’t hurt you.” 


142 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


‘‘But who wants them carrying things off? All 
my jewelry is in my top drawer — ’’ 

“You shouldn’t have jewelry at college; bad 
taste. ’ ’ 

“Thanks, old dear!” 

“Fact, but I’m not going to stand here arguing 
the matter. I’m cold. Cheer up. Tommy; want 
me to come over and sleep on the couch?” 

“What could you do to protect me?” 

Shu de Li, awake now and in better mood, 
kissed the end of her pretty finger and planted it 
in the dimple that dwelt in Tommy’s chin. 

“Take that,” she said, “and that, and toddle 
off to bed like the good little angel you are. But 
don’t wake me up again to-night, or I’m afraid 
you won’t like my disposition.” 

Shu de Li adored her downy couch ; her love of 
creature comfort was something of a joke among 
her friends. 

“Shude would sleep through a fire,” Tommy 
said as she and Caroline walked down the hall. 
“Her bravado gets on my nerves. I wish she had 
seen that horrible creature skulking through the 
hall. Ugh, it makes me sick! I’d love to take 
her unaware some time; wish we could get a 
dummy or something. ’ ’ 

Caroline ’s eyes flashed a sympathetic smile. 

“Come into my room a minute,” she said, the 
“coffee grounds” in her amber eyes spreading 
with mischief. “I’ve got an idea.” 

Susan’s bed was not occupied. 

“Reckon she’s out star-gazing or bug-gather- 


CAROLINE CAUSES A PANIC 143 

Caroline remarked, taking off her evening 
coat and hanging it away. ‘‘Wait until I’m 
comfy in my slippers and bathrobe and then we’ll 
cogitate.” Her smile changed to a challenging 
grin. 

For the next ten minutes the only sounds that 
broke the stillness were the clock in the down- 
stairs hall striking twelve and Caroline’s low 
giggle. 

“Are you game, Tommy!” she questioned. 
“It’s going to take a little nerve, but I’ll wager 
Shude won’t say again that she isn’t afraid of 
night prowlers. ’ ’ 

Tommy departed to her own room for a few 
minutes, coming back with a box of make-up 
under her wide kimono sleeve. A few minutes 
later they made another pilgrimage, arm in arm, 
suppressing the laughter occasioned by each 
creak in the telltale stairs. Several times they 
were so overcome with hilarity that they stopped 
and leaned against the wall for support. 

“Caroline, don’t, please — Mrs. Rankin — re- 
member — ” 

And Caroline would brace up and take another 
creaky step. 

It took time, fumbling in the dark, to find the 
houseman’s coat and hat which he often left be- 
hind the kitchen door, but Tommy was at last 
successful. She took it down, her nose lifted in 
disgust. “Awfully smelly,” she sniffed — “fur- 
nace and bad tobacco; think you’ll mind!” 

“I’ll put a clean handkerchief in the hat, and 


144 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


the coat will be all right over a white waist ; Shade 
won’t be too critical — ” 

More giggles. 

A half-hour passed while Tommy worked dili- 
gently. When she gave Caroline the hand mirror 
and told her to view herself, Caroline blinked un- 
believingly. 

‘^Tom, how did you do it! I’m a scream! 
The mustache is perfect and I love the eyebrows ; 
they’re the real thing, so bushy and burglary! 
Oh, wait a minute. I have something else. The 
very thing.” 

She went over to her dresser drawer and took 
out a pocket flash-light. A few evenings before 
she had helped Biddy settle Emma’s disposition 
with it, dropping it into her sweater pocket by 
mistake. 

Don’t tell me things are not foreordained,” 
she whispered, trying the light in Tommy’s as- 
tonished face. ‘‘Come on — keep near me, but 
not too close. Gentlemen burglars are seldom 
accompanied by kimono-clad females. Are we 
ready? March!” 

With lockstep and smothered laughter they 
started across the hall. 

Tommy stopped and executed one of her danc- 
ing bounds in the direction from which they had 
come. She was back with another l^ap. 

“Here, you forgot this !” She tied a red hand- 
kerchief over the lower part of Caroline’s face. 
The procession moved again. At Shade’s door it 
halted. Tommy was doubled up with laughter. 


CAROLINE CAUSES A PANIC 145 

‘‘Oh, Caroline,” she whispered between gasps, 
“you^re the most adorable man I ever looked at. 
You won’t scare Shade a bit. She’ll faint in 
your arms ! ’ ’ 

It took several attempts to control their 
laughter, but Caroline finally straightened. 

Tommy opened the doqr. The room was as 
still as a tomb. Caroline stepped in, moved 
about cautiously for a moment. She had flashed 
her light and was about to bend over Shu de Li 
when the most terrified scream she had ever heard 
pierced the air. It was followed by another — 
and yet another. The cry was taken up along the 
hall. Some one on the sleeping porch added 
“fire” at the top of her lungs. 

Tommy, realizing Caroline’s danger, grabbed 
her by the houseman’s odorous coat. 

“The bathroom!” she whispered. “Quick! 
You must get out of those clothes! Hurry, 
hurry, here comes Mrs. Rankin!” 

“He’s in here, I heard the door close,” came in 
Shu de Li’s matter-of-fact tones. “Yes, I’m 
quite sure. I saw him enter my room and bend 
over Fanchon’s bed. Send for the police, at 
once ! ’ ’ 

On the other side of the bathroom door, Caro- 
line and Tommy looked at each other in dismay. 

“Now, don’t you worry,” Caroline whispered, 
feeling, rather than seeing. Tommy’s fright 
“It was all my doing. I’ll shoulder the blame — 
but we must get out of here. I draw the line at 
being arrested.” 


146 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 

To mmy picked up a bath towel and applied it 
to Caroline's face. It was too dark in the tiny 
room to see the effect produced, but that was a 
small matter. The coat and flash light were 
stuffed into a linen drawer under a pile of towels. 
Caroline stood slim and straight in her white 
waist, short petticoat and bedroom slippers. 

Tommy opened the bathroom window cau- 
tiously. It let in a ray of light. Frightened as 
she was. Tommy could not repress her laugh- 
ter. 

‘ ‘ Cal dear, if you could just see yourself ! ’ ’ 

Despite the noise going on in the hall, she col- 
lapsed against the wall and shook until she fell 
in a heap. 

Carohne was less mirthful. 

We’ve got to get out of this,^^ she said, ‘‘and 
quickly.’’ She spoke in an anxious whisper. 
“You are sure-footed, Tom; could you — would 
you dare walk along the ledge outside the window 
and drop to the kitchen roof below? That’s the 
only chance I see of getting away.” 

‘ ‘ What would you do ? ” 

‘ ‘ Follow you. I ’m not in the least afraid. ’ ’ 

Tommy took a look. The noise in the hall was 
growing louder. Mrs. Rankin was giving direc- 
tions. 

“All right, come along.” Tommy squeezed 
through the small aperture and tested the width 
of the ledge. “Hold tight,” she cautioned. 

They had walked to the corner, holding to the 
house with steady fingers, when Tommy stopped. 


CAROLINE CAUSES A PANIC 147 


‘ ‘ Caroline ! ^ ^ she breathed. ‘^They’re coming, 
the police ! What on earth shall we do P ’ 

The clang, clang of the patrol sounded nearer 
and nearer. It struck terror to Caroline’s heart. 
She looked down at her short silk petticoat and 
scarlet slippers. Fortunately she could not see 
her streaked and dirty face. The moustache had 
only partly vanished. Half of its artistic twist 
curled on a pallid cheek: a heavy eyebrow had 
escaped the towel. It still bushed rakishly. 

‘‘Heavens, it isn’t the police, it’s the fire- 
engine!^^ Tommy gasped. “Suppose they turn 
the water from that big hose up here! It would 
whisk us into the bay. ’ ’ 

Caroline’s chattering answer was lost in the 
sound of a male voice somewhere below. 

“Could I be of assistance?” it asked. “Just a 
second and I will try to get a ladder. ’ ’ 

If the position had not been so altogether peril- 
ous, Caroline would have dropped, from sheer em- 
barrassment. 

“It’s a Phi Psi next door,” Tommy muttered, 
strengthening her slight hold on the house. 
‘ ‘ Good Lord, what are we going to do ! ” 

“Do? We’re going to scurry down the ladder 
as soon as he brings it,” Caroline answered. “I 
wouldn’t walk that plank back to the bathroom if 
every man next door tried to help us. My knees 
are knocking so I can hardly stand another 
minute. ’ ’ 

The Phi Psi was back quickly. He ran up the 
ladder and held out a hand. Tommy took it 


148 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


eagerly. Caroline turned her back and came 
down with burning cheeks. 

The young man would never have knowm they 
were burning but for the fire-engine’s headlight. 
It swept them like a gleaming eye. It lit up Caro- 
line ’s bunchy brow and severed moustache; it 
touched her slippers with a fiendish glare. 

But there was little time to stare. Tommy 
caught Caroline’s arm. 

believe,” she said and gave Caroline a pull, 
‘‘that we can get up to my room over the fire es- 
cape before they get around to the back, if we 
hurry. ’ ’ 

Caroline needed no second invitation. 

The Phi Psi strolled around the house. As 
Caroline made the last round she heard him say, 
“Trouble’s in front, I think, everything’s all 
right here. I’ve been over the place pretty 
thoroughly.” 

She could have embraced him with gratitude. 

The third floor was still in confusion. Tommy’s 
roommate had joined the crowd outside. It took 
but a moment to find a jar of cold cream, to wipe 
the telltale marks from Caroline’s face, put on a 
bathrobe and stroll out, anxious and heavy-eyed. 

In the hall Shu de Li accosted Caroline. 

“My word. Cal, you don’t mean to say you’ve 
slept through all this racket! Where have you 
been?” 

‘ ‘ With Tommy. What happened ? ’ ’ 

“Happened! Good heavens! We’ve had a 
terrible time. The man Tommy saw down-stairs 


CAROLINE CAUSES A PANIC 149 


in the dining room came back, got into our room, 
flashed a light at Fanchon — 

‘‘So there really was a burglar P’ 

“Was there? Well, rather! Fanchon ^s in a 
terrible way, scared into hysterics; doctor’s with 
her now. ’ ’ 

From behind Shu de Li’s closed door came 
moans and shrieks. 

“It’s awful,” Shu de Li said, wringing her 
hands in sympathy. “Mrs. Rankin says she once 
knew a girl who lost her mind through just such 
a scare. If Fan isn’t better soon, they’re going 
to telephone over to the city for her mother.” 

“Goodness, is it that bad?” Caroline’s face was 
troubled. 

^'Bad? It’s terrible! But we have a fine de- 
scription of the man; Fan and I both saw him. 
Young, rather — and,” Shu de Li lowered her 
voice — “terribly good-looking, what we could 
see of him. He had a handkerchief over the 
lower part of his face — ” 

‘ ‘ Could — could you identify him ? ’ ’ 

Tommy made a dash for the stairs. Halfway 
down she stopped and doubled up, then shaking, 
made her way on down. Caroline’s expression 
never changed. 

“I think so. He had a moustache, rather 
French, curled, you know, and very heavy eye- 
brows. We had the curtains up and the room 
was rather light — ” 

“You saw him clearly, then?” 

“Oh, yes. He paused at my bed as if a little 


150 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


uncertain of his movements, then moved towards 
Fan^s. I had not been sound asleep — just doz- 
ing—'' 

^asee." 

Shu de Li hurried on. ‘T want to get the 
things I threw out of the window, ' ' she explained. 
^^Some of my best clothes are out on the lawn. 
Everybody dumped everything when the fire en- 
gine came." She leaned against the wall for a 
minute and laughed nervously. ‘ ^ They say Betty 
Carew tried to carry out her grand piano and Nell 
Neally saved the shade to the lamp. I can laugh 
now, but — " 

She ran down the stairs lightly and Caroline 
went into the bathroom. It was deserted. 
Quickly she opened the drawer where the house- 
man's hat and coat lay. She rolled the coat in 
a ball, having tucked the hat inside, and tossed 
the bundle through the open window. 

Turning, she drew a long sigh. 

‘‘Well, that's that!" she said below her breath. 
“I'm done with burglaring!" 

The breakfast table hummed with excitement 
next morning. In the midst of bacon and soft 
boiled eggs some one brought in the paper. 

“Here it is, bold as life and twice as natural. 
Heavens, Shude! Here's your picture!" Nell 
Neally read on: 

‘ ‘ Haring robbery planned at prominent sorority 
house on Channing Way; frightened girls' 
screams rouse the house. Fire alarm given. 
Burglar chased by Miss Shu de Li Winston, beau- 


CAROLINE CAUSES A PANIC 151 

tiful daughter of Tyler Drew Winston, formerly 
connected with the Embassy at Pekin, China. No 
shots fired. Man escapes but police have ac- 
curate description — ’ ’ 

Tommy left the table hurriedly, her hand on 
her stomach. 

‘‘Poor Tom,’’ some one said kindly, “fright 
always gives her indigestion. What’s your 
hurry, Caroline!” 

In the midst of the pandemonium that followed, 
Susan Stirling walked in, tired and a little di- 
sheveled. 

“What’s up!” she inquired, taking her place 
at table. “I did a risky thing last night; fell 
asleep under a tree on the hill — watching for 
that new star Howe’s found; caught cold, I’m 
afraid — Good heavens, Nell, what’s happened! 
You all look like ghosts!” 

The sequel to the event came a few weeks later, 
a sequel much pleasanter than Caroline hoped 
for — or deserved. 

In hurrying across the campus, she was hailed 
by Tommy — Tommy with a very good-looking 
young man in tow. 

“Cal, dear,” she called, “stop a minute! I 
want to introduce Mr. Forbes — Eanson Forbes.” 

Tommy made the introduction and looked 
around cautiously. 

“We owe Mr. Forbes a debt of gratitude; it 
was he who helped us out the other night — Ssh, 
here comes Susan.” 

Susan passed with a wave. Tommy went on: 


152 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


“Got the ladder, you know. He^s promised not 
to tell — ever!’’ 

Caroline’s face was as vivid as the slippers she 
had worn at her last meeting with Mr. Forbes, 
but she held out a grateful hand. “You’re a 
good sport,” she said and meant it. “If ever 
I can help you — you see that was my escapade 

— I inveigled Tommy — ” 

“Tommy was a willing victim,” that young 
lady interrupted. 

“Everything’s all right now; no bad effects?” 
Ranson inquired. 

“Everything’s fine. Fanchon’s better — says 
she’s rather glad it happened, on the whole — 
burnt child never dreads the fire, you know — 
and it gave the house something to talk about 
for days.” 

“No trace of the burglar?” 

“Not yet.” 

“You think they are still looking?” 

“Scarcely. You see — ” it was Caroline who 
lowered her voice this time and looked about — 
“you see, there was a policeman in the lower hall, 
a nice fat paternal-looking one who might have 
had girls of his own. And I — I — please don’t 
be shocked — I gave him a wink as I passed him 

— a good honest one. They stopped searching im- 
mediately. ’ ’ 

Ranson threw back his head and laughed, and 
Caroline hurried on to her next class. 

On Sunday evening Ranson was invited to the 
sorority house for tea. As he was leaving, he 


CAROLINE CAUSES A PANIC 153 

said to Caroline, ‘‘How about seeing the crew 
races this week? Father has a launch that he 
has turned over for the day. Some of the fellows 
and girls are going. Glad to have you share the 
fun. ’ ’ 

The festivities began the night before the races. 
Caroline had accepted an invitation to Biddy’s 
“Formal”, arriving home at two in the morning 
— not an unusual hour to return from such a 
function. The girls were still up, her own par- 
ticular crowd, waiting to discuss the various 
parties they had attended. Tommy had hot choc- 
olate going in the electric chafing dish ; Shu de Li 
had donated sandwiches and cream putfs. 

It was quite four o’clock when Caroline crept 
across the hall and into her deserted bed. She 
arose at six, more sleepy than when she retired, 
but she pattered across the room and flung the win- 
dow blind high to consult the weather. 

The sun was coming up bright and clear; not 
a sign of fog or rain. As Biddy had prophesied, 
“California was on the job.” 

It took some minutes to do her hair becomingly, 
but she was ready at last, trig and charming in 
a suitable sport suit. Hannah’s permission had 
been gained the night before so there was noth- 
ing to do but fly for the six-twenty train to the 
ferry, and ride in an aroma of ham and eggs with 
the workmen who were commuting to San Fran- 
cisco. 

Ranson was waiting at the flower stand with a 
gorgeous bunch of violets and chrysanthemums. 


154 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


Caroline buried her face in the blue-and-gold 
beauties and pinned them in her belt. At the dock 
they found the rest of the party, eager for the 
morning ^s excitement. 

Caroline had never sailed in a launch before, 
and the little boat, brave in its fresh white paint 
and green trimmings, delighted her. Ranson 
showed her the cabin with its pretty wicker furni- 
ture and gay draperies; its tiny open deck. He 
even let her take a turn at the wheel as they cut 
in and out among the vessels in the bay, — a 
thrilling experience. 

It was a perfect morning. The sluggish water 
of the tranquil bay shimmered in the sunshine. 
Sea gulls hovered about, stopping now and then 
to catch a ride on the moving water’s breast. 

Caroline’s glance strayed over the bay. At her 
right a picturesque old vessel from the Orient 
rocked quietly, restlessly, as if teasing to be re- 
leased from its anchorage. There were merchant 
ships, each flying the symbol of its country; al- 
ready the bay was alive with the launches carry- 
ing the enthusiastic California rooters. 

‘^Get ahead there!” said Randall to the pilot. 
‘‘We’ve as much right to lead as any,” and the 
little craft snorted with a spurt of approval. 

It was a shifting, brilliant, colorful scene. 
Motor patrols plied in and out, guarding the 
Estuary to prevent collisions; on either bank 
similar difficulties were being encountered with 
automobiles. 

As Ranson ’s boat glided along, the guests on 


CAROLINE CAUSES A PANIC 155 

its little deck glimpsed numerous classmates. 
Caroline's heart pounded when she heard a shrill 
whistle and turning, beheld Biddy at a distance 
draped on the Emma’s fender. She waved him 
a hearty salute. 

And Biddy’s heart leapt from a condition of 
calm repose to a more or less annoying flutter as 
he watched Caroline, the wind flapping her coat 
in graceful curves behind her, her upturned black 
and white sailor hat, her pleated flannel skirt, 
dark hose and spotless white oxfords — even 
whiter in the sunshine — silhouetted against the 
ever-changing background. 

Eanson’s boat reached its limit, idling at an 
advantageous point. A short distance ahead the 
crew was preparing for the start. The gun was 
fired and as soon as the launch was permitted, it 
followed. 

A burst of enthusiastic cheers left the banks 
and rippled up the Estuary with the old support 
that California always gave. The race was on! 

Caroline watched it breathlessly, her body 
tense, her hands gripped together, a flush traveling 
beneath the warm tan of her cheeks. Only once 
did she waver — when California’s shell had 
barely half its length in gain : two of her men had 
given out, leaning limply on their knees. 

Ranson’s piercing yell brought back her cour- 
age. 

‘‘California, California! Keep it up! Come 
on, Cal! Nearly there! Nearly there! Don’t 
weaken!” 


156 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


Unexpectedly the gun was fired. A ripple of 
dismay uttered by the scattered Stanfordites was 
drowned in the whistles and shrieks of the vic- 
torious Californians. 

But the day was not over yet. Caroline 
reached the sorority house at twelve-thirty. The 
outcome of the races had not dampened the spirits 
of Stanford guests, for, according to custom, 
the visiting chapter was harbored for the oc- 
casion. 

‘‘Come out into the kitchen, Shu de Li whis- 
pered to Caroline. “Gee^s run out of chocolate, 
and only half the guests have been served. By 
the way. Cal, you looked a million on the 
boat this morning. Where did you get that 
hatr^ 

The chapter room swarmed with girls, laughing 
and chatting. Amateurish strains of jazz strayed 
from the open house next door. Freshmen 
hurried about serving a buffet luncheon. Excite- 
ment was still in the air. 

“Get a move, Babs,^’ Tommy called, passing 
through the room with a Stanford friend. 
“You’ve just time to powder your nose and get 
to Cal field for the meet.” 

Tommy’s warning started others. There was 
an exodus to up stairs chambers for final feminine 
touches and brilliant sweaters. The procession 
moved campusward. 

Caroline arrived at the field in ample time to 
see Stanford carry off the day’s honors. From 
somewhere in the mob Biddy suddenly appeared. 


CAROLINE CAUSES A PANIC 157 


bringing the opponent’s football captain with him. 

‘‘How about finding one of your sisters for 
Baldwin,” he asked, “and we’ll have a foursome 
dinner across the bay ? ” 

Caroline recalled Shu de Li’s disappointed and 
somewhat anxious face when she left her at the 
house. The man who had asked her for the even- 
ing’s celebration had given out in the morning’s 
race. 

There was another hurried change of toilet. 
Caroline donned a girlish gown of black velvet, 
made so simply that its richness passed unnoticed. 
Alison’s gift it was, and Leigh’s clever fingers 
had, as usual, transformed it. For once, old gold 
had been discarded for a soft, periwinkle blue; 
the sleeves that fell away from the elbows were 
lined with it, and there were touches on soft 
panels that parted as Caroline danced, giving a 
fleeting glimpse of color. 

Biddy’s eyes followed her proudly as she 
danced with his friend, and others watched the 
lithe, erect figure with head swaying like a flower 
above the slender brown throat. 

Shu de Li, too, was looking her best in a lace 
and rose taffeta gown; Neal Baldmn seemed per- 
fectly content with Caroline’s selection. 

The dining room was filled with University stu- 
dents in parties of four, six and eight. But there 
were no demonstrations. It was a happy, light- 
hearted, almost dignified crowd, still in a recep- 
tive, if not hilarious mood. 

Caroline reached home after midnight and still 


158 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


too excited to sleep, chronicled the day’s happen- 
ings in a bulky letter home. 

Her twenty-four hours, packed to the brim, 
thus passed into family history. 


CHAPTER XV 


A FRIEND IN NEED 

• 

C AEOLINE often wondered liow she would 
have endured the pangs of homesickness that 
sometimes attacked her if it had not been for 
Mrs. CoKax and her interesting family. 

Their home lay at the outskirts of a neighbor- 
ing city, so that it took some time by rail or motor 
to reach it, but the latchstring was always out, a 
warm Southern handshake awaiting her. 

In many respects Mrs. Colfax was a remark- 
able woman. To live in the house with a son and 
daughter-in-law and keep their unalterable affec- 
tion proved the assertion. 

The house was wide and roomy; the families 
kept very much to themselves except at mealtime, 
when they all gathered in the long dining room 
and chatted merrily over the day’s happenings. 

Caroline loved those gatherings. The conver- 
sation ranged from stocks and bonds to the latest 
play and opera. Mrs. Colfax never lost her inter- 
est in the world about her. She had been a gifted 
singer in her day and the love for good music, in 
fact a comprehending knowledge of all the arts, 
was a part of her very being. She was an author- 
ity on operatic favorites, celebrated actors, noted 


160 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


playwrights. She was a sparkling conversation- 
alist, a rare hostess. 

The simple dignity of the family life, the ne- 
groes moving softly about their work, the quaint 
old furniture that lent a peculiar Southern charm 
and atmosphere, made Caroline feel at home. 
Romping with the Barker children in the nursery 
was a joyous innovation in college life; talking 
with Preston Barker about literature (he had 
once been a college professor), science, even re- 
ligion, was a stimulating privilege. 

But perhaps, best of all, were the long visits 
before Sally’s open fire, after the family had re- 
tired. There, sorority m^atters could be dis- 
cussed. 

^ Tt is about time Hannah was giving you a new 
roommate,” Sally ventured one night. ‘‘Every- 
body knows that Susan is utterly impossible.” 

“Some one has to room with her,” Caroline 
said, looking dreamily into the fire; “why not I?” 

“Favors like that should be passed around,” 
Sally remarked a bit sarcastically. 

‘ ‘ Susan has seemed very troubled lately ; some- 
times I feel sorry for her.” 

It was the very next afternoon on her way 
home to the sorority house that she discovered 
Susan’s difficulty. Caroline had stopped in town 
to do a little shopping. In crossing a main 
thoroughfare, she came upon Susan. Sometimes 
in after years the vision that met her eyes that 
foggy, gray afternoon, would bring sudden 
laughter. 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


161 


A silvery mist was surging in from; the bay, 
a wet, uncomfortable mist that sent people 
hurrying home shivering. Susan, as usual, was 
without a hat. Her thick ropes of talfy hair 
were wet and stringy. Her green sweater, thin 
and sagging, was held together by a sorority pin, 
one button and an honor emblem that dangled 
loosely froni a little chain. Her keen eyes had 
lost their sparkle. But it was not her costume 
that made Caroline laugh. That sent a pang to 
her heart. 

In her arms Susan was carrying a bird cage. 
She had thrown an old scarf over the wires to 
protect Dickey from cold and fright, but a sorrow- 
ful peep now and then betrayed his anxiety. 
Caroline stopped still in the street and stared. 

‘‘Susan, for goodness’ sake, what are you do- 
ing out this kind of a day with that bird!” she 
exclaimed. 

Caroline was fond of Dickey. He always hung 
near the sunniest window in the bedroom; some- 
times when she was very tired, his tweeks and 
thrills got on her nerves, but not often. 

Susan assumed a stoical expression quite for- 
eign to her sympathetic countenance. 

“I have been trying to sell him, Cal dear,” she 
said. “Strange, but nobody seems to want him. 
And he’s such a fine specimen (everything was a 
specimen to Susan’s scientific mind), a German 
roller, you know.” 

“But why do you want to sell him?” 

“I must have some money — to-day.” 


162 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


‘‘Why to-day r’ 

“Because I owe it.’' 

“To whomr’ 

“Babs. She needs it to pay on a dress she’s 
having sent over from the city — ” 

“Oh, Susan, why do you do it?” 

‘Do what?” 

“Keep up this awful borrowing. See where it 
puts you.” 

“I know; I’m very careless, but so is father. 
I suppose he’s got his head in some new experi- 
ment and forgotten that I am on earth. He does 
sometimes. I haven’t had a remittance for some 
time. I suppose if mother were living — ” 

“How much do you need, Susan?” 

‘ ‘ Twenty-five dollars. ’ ’ 

Caroline took the bird cage, lifted the scarf and 
peeked at Dickey. He was huddled in a heap at 
the bottom of the cage. She whistled to him. 
His responsive trill was melancholy. 

“I will lend you the money for a week, Susan,” 
she said, wondering just how she was going to 
manage. “I’ll make it twenty-six dollars, and 
you skip over to the telegraph office and send a 
night letter to your father. Tell him the matter 
is urgent.” She took a silver dollar from a lean 
purse. 

“Oh, Cal, you’re such a dear! I’d so much 
rather owe you than Babs. I’d never borrow 
from her, only that she has so much. ’ ’ 

“I know — too much. It doesn’t bring her 
happiness — or wisdom. ’ ’ 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


163 


‘^I wish. I could afford to give her the money,’’ 
Caroline thought, as she watched Susan disappear 
down the street, swinging Dickey a hit pre- 
cariously, in her relief, ‘‘hut I can’t.” 

In fact, money matters often worried Caroline. 
She tried to keep within the limit of her allowance, 
but things were always coming up unexpectedly: 
dues and assessments; local charities; bills for 
cleaning and repairing of clothes. A college girl 
carrying eighteen hours a week has little time for 
pressing or mending. 

And it was hard sometimes to meet the require- 
ments of girls who had so much more to spend. 
Their “Let’s do this or that” often of necessity 
met with refusal. “It’s good for me to practice 
self-denial,” she would think when she relin- 
quished some cherished scheme. Once in the 
heart of a lengthy letter the Major found this : 

“Emerson was right about the law of compensation. 
Take the girls here. My roommate has the most brilliant 
mind on the campus, perhaps — a mind that will take 
her far, no doubt, but she has no mother, no sense of pro- 
portion, no balance. And Barbara Blue : beautiful, 
clever, rich ; but shallow, superticial, selfish. And Betty 
Carew: talented and ambitious, with more money than 
she knows what to do with — but an orphan ! 

“And me, without much money, but you and mother 
— and a background that I can lean against without feel- 
ing it will give way and let me through. What’s money 
in comparison! Money! I am beginning to hate it, 
Major, except for the good it can do. There’s something 
so cheap about it — it seems to so often defeat, rather 


164 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


than accomplish. Sometimes I am amazed to see how it 
is thrown away; perishable evening dresses at absurd 
prices ; two motor cars where one would be an extrava- 
gance; more food than people can consume comfortably 
and decently. And then I think of that little spot of 
ground tucked away beneath the trees on the west side 
at home, with its sweeping view of the mountains, its 
bubbling spring, its fresh breezes, and of the little sani- 
tarium we’re going to build for people who have strug- 
gled for fresh air as you have — when our ship comes 
in.” 

There was one period at the house that every- 
body hated. The week that brought mid-term 
examinations. Every one was worried; every 
one was cross — every one but Susan, who rel- 
ished them as most people do roast beef. Her 
nonchalance was often irritating. 

It was a week of late hours, strong coffee and 
ragged dispositions. Sometimes there were all- 
night sessions. It was Nell Neally who one morn- 
ing appeared at the breakfast table looking pale 
and hollow-eyed with a placard about her neck 
which read, ^‘Cram full, don’t joggle!” Cram- 
ming was in the air. 

Caroline had her share of worries. She had 
managed so far to escape the dreaded ^‘cinches” 
that disgraced the house and took away privi- 
leges, but her subjects were growing harder all 
the time. 

She had done well in her English. In fact, she 
herself scarcely knew how well. Sometimes a re- 
turned paper marked *‘Well done” or ‘‘Origi- 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


165 


nality of thought^’ gave her a thrill, hut she had 
no way of knowing that occasionally her papers 
were passed from one professor to another and 
commented upon flatteringly. 

It was strange, since she and Barbara Blue 
were rivals in so many things, that they should 
be, to a certain extent, rivals also in English. 
Barbara wrote cleverly, with sparkling epigrams 
and entertaining comments. Caroline ’s work 
went deeper. She was more analytical, more com- 
prehending, better versed, thanks to the Major, 
in the classics. 

They attended the same class, though they 
seldom) sat together. Biddy had renewed his at- 
tentions to Caroline, and Barbara kept a safe 
distance. She was accepting the attentions of a 
sophomore with whom Caroline had repeatedly re- 
fused to go out. 

A three-cornered enmity had developed that 
sometimes annoyed Caroline. When she passed 
Barbara and Harold Dwight on the campus an al- 
most insulting flicker of amusement flashed be- 
tween them. Caroline pretended not to see it, 
but it left a sting. 

The spring mid-term examination in English 
was unusually diflicult. Caroline wrote steadily, 
stopping now and then to glance away into space 
while she marshalled her thoughts. Once or twice 
she found Harold Dwight’s eyes upon her. There 
was an expression in them that she did not like : 
a crafty, malicious light. 

She watched him as he took his paper to the 


166 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


desk and spoke with the instructor. Ordinarily 
the room was free from proctors, for the uni- 
versity practised an honor system among its 
students. 

For an instant the teacher ^s eyes swept the 
room. Caroline was included in a surprised 
stare. 

She thought little about it. Finishing her 
work, she took her paper to the desk and filed it 
under the ‘ ‘ IFs. ” 

It was her last examination and with a feeling 
of relief, she left the building. 

She wandered into the Glade and sat down by 
the brook to cool her aching head. It was mid- 
March and the flowers were peeping up from the 
grass with fresh color. The trees had leafed in 
bolder green and the brook had risen. It was 
a delightful place to rest and dream. She got 
out her notebook after awhile and scribbled a 
letter to Mayre. The Glade always put her in 
touch with Mayre. She liked to write her of its 
sylvan charms. 

She was not surprised after an hour or two^s 
loitering to see Biddy striding toward her. 

‘‘We’re getting up a dance out at the country 
club to-night,” he said, dropping a pile of books 
and sitting down on the grass beside her. “Step- 
ping to-night ? ” 

Caroline shook her head. 

“How about it?” 

“You ’re inviting me ? ’ ’ 

“Of course.” 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


167 


‘‘I should love it/’ 

‘‘Fine. See you at eight-thirty, then. Mother’s 
coming in this afternoon, and I’ve got to take 
Emma down to meet her.” 

She watched him as he walked away, brisk and 
alert. He was very engaging. 

It was almost dinner time when she reached 
home. There was something about the atmos- 
phere of the living room that reminded her of the 
night of her arrival. Girls were darting back and 
forth with suit cases and traveling hags (it was 
Friday) ; the piano was going merrily. Some 
one called from the living room : 

“Cal, dear, Susan got her check this afternoon 
and has gone over to the city to spend the week- 
end at a hotel with some friends from the East. 
She left a note for you with Mrs. Rankin.” 

Caroline climbed the stairs wearily. Examina- 
tions were fagging. She felt depressed, too, as 
if a cloud were descending upon her. 

“I’m just homesick,” she thought, trying to 
throw oft the mood. “It always gives me a pang 
to see the girls going home.” 

Mrs. Rankin handed her a letter. It was 
sealed, and she took it to her own room for a 
quiet perusal. 

Susan had written hastily : 

“Here’s your money, old dear, thanks a mil- 
lion ! Father came through generously. I had a 
call from the city at noon, saying some friends 
were at the Fairmont, and to come over and spend 
Sunday with them. You won’t mind, but the in- 


168 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


vitation came so suddenly that I had to borrow 
some things from you. I hope that you weren^t 
going to need your yellow chiffon and the brown 
dinner dress. One does have to tog out at a 
hotel — especially for the dinner dances. Would 
have borrowed Shu de Li’s but they don’t fit. 
Love. Susan. ’ ’ 

^^P.S. Please don’t forget to give those toads 
in jars marked 4 and 5 fresh water each day and 
feed Dickey.” 

Caroline dropped down on a chair and looked 
about. If a cyclone had struck the room, it could 
not have been in greater disorder. Drawers were 
open; books lay scattered; clothes hung from 
chairs. 

Her cheeks burned with anger, then drained to 
a deathly pallor. She did not wait to take off her 
coat, but walked straight to the house president’s 
room. 

‘^Hannah,” she said, quite calmly, ^‘you will 
either have to provide me with another roommate 
or I shall leave the house. ’ ’ 

^‘I know, Caroline,” Hannah began sooth- 
ingly — 

‘T mean to-day — now. I will not sleep in that 
room another night. It sickens me.” 

‘‘What has happened?” 

Caroline held out the letter. “I’m tired,” she 
said, when Hannah finished it, “tired of having 
my things borrowed unceremoniously; of having 
my best clothes and slippers go off to parties with- 
out me — my sweaters and coats to ball games. 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


169 


I’m sick to death of pests! Bugs and beetles and 
flie^ and reptiles! I’m afraid if you don’t take 
Dickey out of the room this minute, I’ll smother 
him — much as I love him. ’ ’ 

Hannah repressed a laugh. 

‘Ht’s nothing to smile about,” Caroline said. 
<<Try it awhile for yourself. I’m through.” 

She did not stop until she reached the lower 
floor; she went straight to the telephone, called 
Biddy’s fraternity house (a thing she despised to 
do) and left word that she would not be able to 
keep her appointment with him for the evening. 

When she reached the room again she threw 
herself upon her bed and wept bitterly. 


CHAPTER XVI 


JOY AND SOKBOW 

S ATURDAY morning brought two surprises. 

flannah Rosser and an immediate delivery 
letter arrived at Caroline’s door simultaneously. 

Hannah couldn’t repress a smile as she looked 
about the room. Caroline’s side was neat and 
shining, — empty, in fact, for suit cases and bags 
stood ready for departure. 

just ran in to tell you, Caroline,” Hannah 
began, ^^that the girls in the flatiron room insist 
upon your going in with them. There really 
should be four girl^ there, but until the present 
moment we have never found just the right per- 
son. Nell and Estelle are so much older than 
Betty that it will be fine for her to have a room- 
mate nearer her own age. She is overjoyed at 
the prospect of having you — has gone out this 
morning to purchase a bed to match the other 
two. ’ ’ 

Caroline could not speak for a moment. Tears 
welled in her eyes. 

‘‘You are all so kind,” she began, but Hannah 
stopped her. 

“You have been a good deal of a martyr, my 


JOY AND SORROW 


171 


dear, we all know that ; but Susan needed you — 
poor Susan!’’ 

‘‘I understand. She needed — some one, surely. 
I’m really very sorry for having lost my temper 
last night, but to call off a date because somebody 
had walked off with your only evening dress — 
well — ” 

A laugh finished the sentence. 

‘‘I can laugh about it this morning — I couldn’t 
last night ! ’ ’ 

The letter brought even greater amazement. 
It was a hurried scrawl from Alison. There 
were few sentences, but they overran four sheets 
in an angular, almost illegible hand. . 

‘‘Darling Caroline,” it began, as usual. 
“Tevis and I are off for the East for a little rest 
and change of scene. Don’t know just where we 
shall spend our time; probably where we can get 
good golf. I find that the Kirtley flesh hounds 
my poor shoulders and waist and I have to exer- 
cise and diet all the time. I am very much worn 
at present with my social and committee duties. 
Life is so strenuous here during the winter sea- 
son. So much entertaining. Tevis is sending 
you a check for fifty dollars and says to buy your- 
self something pretty with it. Will try and write 
you as soon as we are settled, but can give you no 
definite addresses at present. Always, darling, 
with enduring love, Alison. ’ ’ 

Caroline fed Dickey and watered the toads and 
then carried her bags to the flatiron room. Nell 
received her with open arms. 


172 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


The cheerful room soothed her as nothing else 
could. The windows were open and a soft breeze 
rippled the dainty muslin curtains; fresh flowers 
lent fragrance; the large center table was neat 
with its magazines and books, its work baskets 
and framed photographs. Except for the beds, 
one might have taken the place for a charming, 
well-ordered living room. 

Nell took the bags. 

‘^We’re giving you the big closet across the 
hall, Caroline, she said. ‘‘A little inconvenient, 
but it will be your own, and it locks. We thought, 
too, we would move two beds to one side, and two 
to the other. Betty insists upon buying screens 
for them, — a needless extravagance, but I sup- 
pose she might as well spend her money that way 
as any other. She^s gone out to get them 
now. ^ ’ 

By noon the place was comfortably arranged. 
The beds had been pushed back and two hand- 
some Japanese screens concealed them. Caro- 
line’s bureau held her silver and the family photo- 
graphs. She had her own table beside her bed, 
her own deep, cosy chair and reading lamp. 

‘T know now how Elijah must have felt when 
he was translated,” she said to Estelle. 

Later she and Shu de Li went over to the city 
to shop. Caroline, with Shu de Li ’s help, selected 
a new evening gown. Mayre might not have ap- 
proved, for Caroline changed the usual order and 
selected pale blue ; a creation that Shu de Li liked. 
There was enough money left from Tevis’s check 


JOY AND SORROW 


173 


to provide silver slippers and hose. Altogether 
the experience was delightful and Caroline went 
home treading air. 

Sunday was another happy day. To awahen in 
a clean, wholesome room, to hear her roommates 
pattering about with well-bred quietness ; to catch 
one^s first glimpse of day through a wide, sunny 
window and feast for a moment on green hills 
and swaying trees was a privilege heretofore un- 
dreamed of. 

But Monday ! 

Months after, the very sound of Monday 
brought a tide of blood to Caroline’s face — a 
pounding heart. She had gone home to lunch, 
blithe and gay. Monday was usually an easy 
day, for she finished her classes in the morning. 

‘‘Heaps of mail for you,” Shu de Li called, as 
Caroline entered the dining room. “Did you get 
it?” 

Caroline turned back. The mail was always 
piled on a table in the hall and each girl found 
her own. She picked up the letters : one from her 
mother; one from Mayre; one from Jimmy. And 
still another — a typewritten affair in a legal 
looking envelope. She gazed at it in surprise, 
breaking the seal wonderingly. It was a note, 
very brief, asking her to report at one of the 
seminar rooms on the fourth floor of the library, 
building, at four-thirty o’clock on Monday, the 
seventeenth of April. It was signed by the secre- 
tary of the “Students’ Affairs Committee.” 

Her first impulse was to hand the letter over 


174 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 

to Shu de Li and ask what it meant, but as she 
entered the dining room she noticed that Barbara 
Blue was sitting next to Shu de Li; in fact, while 
reading the letter she had glanced into the room 
to find Barbara watching her. She stuffed the 
mail into her deep sweater pocket and began her 
lunch. 

‘^Not going to read your mail nowV^ Shu de Li 
asked, between dainty sips of her vegetable soup. 
^^Aren^t we patient!’^ 

‘‘Think I will wait until I go upstairs,’’ Caro- 
line said, her brow still puckered in thought. 

“Anything go wrong this morning. Cal?” Shu 
de Li asked, tracing the furrow with an anxious 
finger. “Don’t frown. It spoils that lovely 
brown forehead.” 

Barbara Blue looked up quickly. 

“No — I had a fine morning, thanks. Every- 
thing went well. ’ ’ 

Barbara picked up her notebook and left. Shu 
de Li called down the table, “Anybody using the 
‘Peril’ this afternoon, Crewie?” Betty’s name 
was often twisted. 

Betty’s roadster, the “Gray Peril,” so called 
because of Betty’s reckless driving, was at the 
disposal of the house. 

“No, take it if you like,” came the cordial 
answer. 

“I must run into Oakland for some shopping. 
Want to come. Cal?” 

“Not this afternoon — thanks. I have an en- 
gagement. ’ ’ 


JOY AND SORROW 


175 


^‘Terribly sorry/’ Shu de Li blew a kiss from 
the tips of her rosy fingers and followed Barbara. 

Alone in her room, Caroline again read the 
note. ^^What can it mean?” she wondered. She 
scarcely comprehended what her mother and 
Mayre were saying in their letters; Jimmy’s was 
put aside for a more propitious moment. 

Try as she would she could not throw off a feel- 
ing of apprehension. There was something sinis- 
ter about the envelope; something that spelled 
disaster. Suddenly her face lighted. Margaret 
could explain. Margaret knew about all college 
activities. But her eyes quickly clouded. Mon- 
day was Margaret’s hardest day. She never ar- 
rived home until dinner time, sometimes not even 
then. 

A misty gray fog was drifting in from the bay. 
Caroline changed her sweater for a warmer one, 
found a close-fitting turban that was very becom- 
ing, shoved it down over her thick hair (from 
which little tendrils hung — tendrils that scorned 
the hat’s confines and curled about her neck and 
ears) and started forth. 

She went straight to the campus, hoping that 
she might meet Margaret between her classes. 
After an hour’s unsuccessful wait, she decided 
to walk — anywhere, any place — to take up the 
time until four-thirty. She turned toward the 
hills ; there were two hours to spare. Higher up 
the fog was lifting. She found a dry spot and 
sat down with her letters. Jimmy’s was un- 
usually interesting. He had quite forgiven her 


176 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


saucy reply to his, asking for topics of common 
interest; he even begged for college news. 

Mrs. RavenePs was quaintly characteristic. 
Beautifully written : her chirography was as clear 
and legible as steel engraving. But it contained 
little news ; it was made up of affectionate greet- 
ings and wise advice. She hoped that Caroline 
was making progress in her studies ; that she was 
well, free from colds, careful in the selection of 
her companions. 

Caroline smiled as she fitted the letter back 
into its delicately scented envelope. ‘‘Dear 
mother,’^ she thought, “she^s almost an anachro- 
nism in these hustling times.’’ With a wave of 
tenderness she put the- letter in her blouse, close 
to her- heart, and turned to the one from Mayre. 

Strangely enough, it was. always Mayre who 
gave her the home news — Mayre, who seldom 
went about, but gleaned social happenings from 
the society column in the newspapers or at church 
functions. At present she was busy with her 
drawings, and — this was such thrilling news, 
she had been offered a position in the high school 
to teach drawing for a few hours every afternoon. 
Her mother could not quite make up her mind 
to allow her daughter to take a position — to 
really work, the Major was amply able to provide 
for his children — but Mayre was so- eager to at- 
tempt it — to earn the money and continue her 
studies — perhaps- abroad. 

At four o’clock Caroline went back to the cam- 
pus still hoping to run upon Margaret. She 


JOY AND SORROW 177 

waited as long as she dared, then turned toward 
the library. 

She had three minutes in which to reach the 
fourth floor, and climbed the stairs quickly; she 
made it a habit to always be on time. At the top 
she paused and looked about, a little bewildered. 
It was a part of the building unfamiliar to her. 
Her puzzled expression attracted the attention of 
a youth who was crossing the hall. 

^‘May I be of assistance T’ he asked kindly, 
am hunting the ‘Students’ Affairs Com- 
mittee room,’ ” she said, with a grateful smile. 

“Oh, yes; at the end of the hall — to the left.” 

It was a floor given over to small seminar 
rooms. Caroline went on down the hall, glancing 
through the glass doors, scarcely interested and 
yet wondering what was going on inside. Finally 
she came to the end room. The glass in the door 
had a dark curtain drawn across it. The sight 
of the curtain gave her a start ; it seemed ominous. 
But her head was high when she knocked, her 
eyes clear and unafraid. 

It was a small room she entered, one of the 
smallest on the floor, and bare, save for an oak 
table, about which five girls were seated. 

Caroline was directed to a seat opposite the 
table. She gazed straight ahead, interested in 
the personnel of the group, for they were strong, 
purposeful looking young women; the better col- 
lege type. 

She scarcely knew what drew her attention to 
a chair near her own, but upon turning, she found 


178 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


herself looking into Margaret puzzled eyes. 
She started to move closer, but a voice, gentle 
though firm, asked her to keep the seat to which 
she had been assigned. 

The next five minutes were more interesting 
than amazing to Caroline. The room was not un- 
attractive; it -was under the roof, but a door 
opened onto a small porch ; a door that resembled 
a dormer window set back into the roof, rather 
than built out, in true dormer fashion. It was 
open, and Caroline let her gaze wander to the 
green hills beyond. The fog had settled again; 
it hung heavy upon the trees, half obscuring them. 

She came back from dreams with the sound of 
her name : 

‘^Miss Ravenel, will you rise, please 

She was on her feet instantly, looking at the 
chairman with clear, expectant eyes. 

‘T am sorry ta tell you. Miss Ravenel,’^ the 
girl began — and hesitated as she met the clear 
glance — ‘‘that you have been called before this 
committee for dishonesty in an English examina- 
tion. What explanation have you to make?^^ 

If the girl had reached out and struck her, 
Caroline could not have seemed more dazed. She 
shrank back, clutching at the. rim of her chair, 
as if she had not quite comprehended, — as if the 
room had gone black and left her groping for 
light. 

But quite as suddenly the reaction came. Her 
shoulders lifted; her head went up; the specks 
in the yellow eyes gathered in a storm. 


JOY AND SORROW 


179 


beg your pardon/^ she began, her surprised 
tones cutting into the deepening silence. ‘‘I beg 
your pardon — but I tbink I don’t quite under- 
stand — ” 

She was leaning forward, her eyes — big now, 
black and questioning — strained to meet those of 
the chairman. Under the clear glance the girl’s 
faltered. 

She repeated the accusation. It had a stagger- 
ing effect upon Caroline. She clutched the chair 
again, as if from a blow. 

^You mean — that you are accusing me — a 
Ravenel — of cheating?” 

The Ravenel” had slipped out almost un- 
knowingly. It was not of herself she was think- 
ing — not of the Kirtleys! But of her father — 
the Major. His honest face rose before her. In 
that terrible, agonizing moment she was living 
over her childhood, her little girlhood ; she was at 
his knee, lisping after him his code of honor, the 
code of his father: to be just and loyal, honest 
and kind — 

For a moment the room, the girl, the sting of 
the blow faded; then the words came back thickly, 
through a mist : 

‘You have been called before this committee 
for dishonesty — ” 

She was conscious that Margaret had risen; 
had slipped over beside her and was steadying 
her; that she had put her hand in hers. Her 
presence lent courage. Again her shoulders 
lifted. 


180 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 

think,’’ she said slowly, ^‘that you will have 
to prove that statement — to my satisfaction and 
to my family’s.” Then, as if unable to stand 
longer, she sat down. 

The room resumed its deathly silence. On the 
campus the campanile bells broke in a musical 
chime. The sweetness stole into the room, filled 
it with a silvery cadence. 

The last note had died when Margaret’s name 
was called. She rose quickly, one hand still on 
Caroline’s shoulder. 

^^Miss Mackintosh!” 

^‘Yes, Miss Merriton.” 

^^You know Miss Ravenel!” 

‘^Very well, indeed.” 

^‘You have known her for some time!” 

‘ ^ Since last August. ’ ’ 

^‘You — you have found her — honest and re- 
liable ! ’ ’ 

have found her the soul of honor. I could 
no more believe her guilty of this thing of which 
she is accused than I could believe such a charge 
against my own mother.” 

Margaret Mackintosh’s word was not to be 
taken lightly. Her four years in college had 
given her creditable standing. No one looking at 
her could have doubted her sincerity — her loyal 
friendship. 

Thank you. You are excused.” The chair- 
man’s voice was calm. 

Caroline got to her feet again. The anger had 
faded from her eyes. There was an appealing 


JOY AND SORROW 181 

expression now : an expression that went straight 
to Persis Merriton’s heart. 

‘‘May I,’’ Caroline began, “ask of just what I 
am accused — and whyT’ 

“You were reported as having copied from 
your nearest neighbor in English 4 — last Friday. 
The papers have been compared; a similarity in 
the use of words — which might or might not 
have resulted from using the same set of notes 
— bears out the suspicion of our informant. Do 
you recall, Miss Ravenel, who sat next you that 
morning?’’ 

Caroline’s brows contracted. She could see 
only the face of Harold Dwight, crafty and inso- 
lent, as’ he passed her with his paper on the way 
to the file. Then suddenly she remembered — re- 
membered the most trivial thing: Barbara Blue 
had dropped her handkerchief and she had 
stooped to pick it up, thinking it was her own. 
She remembered handing it to Barbara and her 
cool acceptance of it. 

“I think,” she said after a moment, “it must 
have been one of my sorority sisters, Barbara 
Blue. ’ ’ 

“Are you in the habit of studying with Miss 
Blue?” 

“No — never.” 

“Are you friends?” 

Caroline hesitated. 

“We have never been intimate,” she said. 

“Have you ever disagreed?” 

There was another silence. 


182 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


you regard Miss Blue as an enemy, Miss 
Ravenel? Have you cause to so consider her I 
Answer quickly, please.’’ 

‘^Miss Blue” — she hated to say it, but honor 
was at stake — ‘‘Miss Blue, I think — has never 
liked me.” 

“Why, Miss Ravenel?” 

“I cannot tell you — I must decline. I really 
cannot. ’ ’ 

“Not even to clear this charge against you?” 

“The charge will be cleared. Miss Merriton — 
without disloyalty — to my sister. ’ ’ 

“Have you any suggestions as to how it may 
be cleared ? ’ ’ 

“Surely my instructor. Professor Wright, will 
identify my paper. He has spoken to me of my 
style — my way of saying things. ’ ’ 

“Professor Wright is out of the city. The 
matter cannot be referred to him at present.” 

“Then I shall have to ask you either to wait 
or take my word — and the word of those who 
know me.” 

Caroline scarcely knew how she left the room. 
She only knew that Margaret was waiting for her 
outside; that she guided her down the stairs. 
For blinding tears had come; she could not see. 
She remembered Margaret’s, “Please, Caroline, 
buck up, just a little longer — you have been so 
fine. Just until we leave the campus.” She was 
conscious of a mighty effort — then Margaret’s 
room — the shelter of those strong, loving arms. 

She remembered the dainty tray of food that 


JOY AND SORROW 


183 


Margaret brought to her a little later, though she 
could not eat, and the long talk that lasted well 
into morning. 

‘You must tell me about Barbara Blue, Caro- 
line, so that I can help you,’’ Margaret begged. 

‘ ‘ It was her paper they compared to yours ; there 
can be no mistake about that. ’ ’ 

To tell of Barbara’s jealousy, reveal a love 
affair that had wounded her pride, made her an 
enemy, seemed a despicable thing to do. Caro- 
line could not bring herself to it. Suppose Bar- 
bara were also innocent. Suppose there had been 
some horrible mistake, suppose Harold Dwight 
had played them both false — for of course he 
had been the informant — what could be gained 
by divulging her unhappy secrets ? 

“Please do not ask me again, Margaret; I 
cannot tell you. It would not be fair to Bar- 
bara. ’ ’ 

And so the night passed and day broke — for 
Caroline, gray and desolate. 

Margaret Mackintosh realized the gravity of 
Caroline’s plight better perhaps than any one 
else — and the injustice of it. Injustice, not 
from the committee’s standpoint, but from the 
standpoint of the informant. She felt certain 
that spite was at the bottom of the whole affair 
and that Caroline, through an incurred enmity, 
had been the victim of revenge. 

She made up her mind to sift the thing to the 
bottom, not alone for Caroline’s sake, but for the 
honor of her Alma Mater. 


184 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


She was not quite sure why she had been called 
in to the meeting. She had not known, until she 
saw Caroline in the committee room, why she had 
been summoned, though, having herself been a 
non-voting member from the Junior class the year 
before, she understood that it must be for a wit- 
ness. 

And even yet, five days after the unhappy 
affair, she had come to no definite conclusion. 
Her presence as a friend of the ‘accused girl 
might have been for the committee's own protec- 
tion — to see that fair play was meted out, or it 
might have been that the committee felt that she, 
being an older girl, would talk the matter over 
with the guilty one and wring a confession from 
her. 

After four years of college life Margaret was 
a sincerely firm believer in student discipline, — 
discipline not based on a written constitution or 
on fixed rules of procedure. The system had been 
tried with unquestioned success for a number of 
years. It had developed naturally from the cus- 
tom of the president’s calling upon prominent 
Seniors to help him in settling difficult problems 
of student discipline. In time the faculty had 
decided to take definite actions, legally confirm- 
ing the president’s power to act in student 
affairs. 

The system had its advantages — and its draw- 
backs. Publicity was never given to disgrace. 
No one knew what went on in the little room with 
its drawn blind. If the committee probed with a 


JOY AND SORROW 185 

thoroughness almost brutal, it had its code of 
honor ; its sense of justice. 

But to Caroline, Margaret’s assurance that no 
one — not even her sorority sisters — would know 
of the disgrace that had come to her gave little 
comfort. In the eyes of the committee, that fine 
body of young women, she was under suspicion. 
The thought humiliated, tortured her. 

Primarily, her thought had been to send for 
the Major, but after the first bitter struggle was 
over she felt stronger, more independent. She 
herself would sift the thing out; spare her family 
the knowledge of her suffering. Each day her 
courage rose. She did not know, life does not al- 
ways mark its mile posts, that she was passing 
through a fire that was to strengthen her, make 
her finer: fit her for heavier burdens. 

She only knew that she was very weary; that 
grief had taken away something that she could 
not put back: trust and confidence, an almost 
childish belief in personal honor. And in place 
had come suspicion, fear, distrust. Harold 
Dwight had more to answer for than a mean, con- 
temptible spite. He had planted the seed of 
doubt in the heart of Caroline’s faith. She went 
about her work each day with a face a little paler, 
eyes a little heavier, smile a little more wan. 

Shu de Li tried to fathom the reason for the 
change, but she was too considerate to ask ques- 
tions. One day she said, ‘^Are you not well. Cal 
dear*? You look so tired. Aren’t you working 
too hardr’ 


186 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 

Caroline shook her head and left the table 
hurriedly. Others were watching her; Barbara 
Blue was always looking at her, but when Caro- 
line caught the anxious gaze, Barbara invariably 
colored and hastily looked away. 

It was two weeks after Caroline had been sum- 
moned to the committee room when she was called 
there again. She scarcely knew in looking back 
how she had endured the interim. Day by day 
she had waited for the return of Professor 
Wright. He was her one hope. She felt that in 
some indefinable way he would find proof of her 
honesty. Her reliance rested on a remark he had 
once made in class. 

‘‘What is style in writing?^’ he asked, and then, 
in his usual definite way, went on to explain, 
pausing only long enough to find a homely simile. 
“ Style, he said, “is. your laundry mark, the tag 
that identifies your linen from that of your class- 
mates. It is your individual mark, your stamp, 
as definite and individual a thing as the number 
on your handkerchief. Style cannot be mistaken. 
It is a thing that makes or mars your work. It 
is God-given, personal, inevitable. There is one 
paper in this class that I could identify in a thou- 
sand — in five thousand. It is stamped with 
originality, with perception, with talent.” 

That was her hope, her one slim chance of de- 
livery. She recalled the marginal notes on the 
papers Professor Wright had returned to her, his 
definite criticisms; his encouragement. 

She entered the committee room with a lighter 


187 


JOY AND SORROW 

step than upon the other occasion; her clear con- 
science giving her courage to endure the ordeal 
ahead. The five girls were in their places beside 
the long, polished table. The window was open. 
The sun was shining; through the open window 
a warm breeze strayed, heralding spring. The 
atmosphere of the room had changed. There was 
a happy, relieved look on the face of the chairman, 
and upon the faces of those about her. 

‘‘Miss Eavenel,^’ Miss Merriton began, and her 
eyes did not falter as before, “we have summoned 
you this afternoon to say that your instructor. 
Professor Wright, returned to the campus last 
night. Your paper was given him for an im- 
mediate inspection. He has identified the work 
as yours — without the shadow of a doubt. He 
has made this committee feel absolutely sure of 
your innocence. He has complimented you as a 
student and — may I add — prophesies that in the 
years to come you will bring honor to the Univer- 
sity. ’ ’ 

But Caroline had dropped back in her chair and 
covered her face with her hands. The reaction 
after days of weary waiting had proved too much. 

Persis Merriton left her chair to lay a gentle 
hand on Caroline's shoulder and continue: 

“We, as a committee, are more sorry than we 
can express to have brought this sorrow and dis- 
tress upon you, but duty is a stern and relentless 
taskmaker. Perhaps in future years you may be 
called upon to serve in our capacity; if so, you 
will realize how we have sutfered with you, but 


188 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


in any event we believe that, harrowing as the ex- 
perience has been, you will treasure it as a step- 
ping-stone to broader experiences, wider sym- 
pathies, greater understanding. We congratu- 
late you on your forbearance, your patience dur- 
ing these two weeks of uncertainty, and wish you 
every success and honor that our beloved institu- 
tion has to offer.’’ 

During the recital the girl’s voice had dropped 
to a touching cadence. Looking up, Caroline 
saw that Persis Merriton was weeping with her. 

It was just two days later that Caroline, 
stopping beside the hall table for her mail, saw 
an official-looking letter that made her heart 
bound. It was addressed to Miss Barbara Blue 
— and marked ^ ^ Personal. ’ ’ 

A half-hour later she met Barbara coming 
down the stairs with a traveling bag in her hand. 
She was white and nervous. 

‘‘Babs has been called home on account of her 
mother’s illness,” Marian Burdick said, in pass- 
ing. We’ve all been trying to help her off.” 

Barbara did not turn her head, nor did she 
wave good-by. She hastened toward a waiting 
taxi, entered it, and the door banged. 

It was the last the sorority house ever saw of 
her. 


CHAPTEE XVII 


A PAETY AND AUF WIEDEESEHEN 

C OMING home one April afternoon, Caroline 
found the halls and living room deserted. 
The second floor had the same lonesome appear- 
ance. 

‘‘What has happened?’’ she wondered, as she 
climbed the stairs to her own floor. Outside the 
flatiron room she paused. There was a gentle 
babble going on within. She opened the door 
softly. The room was full of girls : girls in their 
best frocks. They overflowed the couch, the 
chairs, the window seat. Some were on the floor, 
leaning against the wall with arms entwined, col- 
lege fashion. 

The room had a festive air. Eoses decked the 
table : exquisite, long stemmed-roses ; Caroline 
afterward found there were just nineteen in the 
vase. Over in the corner Betty’s samovar was 
sputtering and fuming. Her finest china kept it 
company. Hannah Eosser in her Sunday best 
sat behind the urn, ready to dispense hospitality. 

“Well!” Caroline said, edging into the room 
and disappearing behind the screen long enough 
to deposit her books, “a party?” 

Instantly she was besieged with pats and kisses. 


190 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


One, two, three, four, some one began to count. 
Then she remembered. For the first time in her 
life she had forgotten her birthday. The girls 
were honoring her. The gracious compliment, 
following so closely upon the heartbreaking 
events of the past few weeks, quite upset her. 

‘‘But how did you know that it was my birth- 
day she asked, when she could speak. 

Shu de Li led her over to the table. Behind 
the sputtering urn reposed a cake aglow with 
pink candles. Maumy^s cake. Caroline instantly 
recognized it. Ever since she was old enough 
to remember, that sprawling, uncertain “C’’ had 
decorated the frosting. 

“Those adorable sisters of yours, Shu de Li 
explained, “sent your box to Estelle and Nell. 
They were afraid you might open it before the 
fourteenth.^’ 

But Caroline knew better. She knew that 
Leigh wanted the girls to have a personal share 
in it. That was Leigh : always planning and 
dividing. 

The party broke into little groups. Caroline 
was toasted with songs and compliments. 

“May you have many birthdays and spend the 
next three here with us,” some one cried, and 
another : 

“Here’s to the only girl on the campus with 
‘well-bred dash’; that’s what I heard a man say 
the other day, Caroline. ’ ’ 

“Hash is right, Susan; he must have seen me 
doing a Marathon for my eight-thirty!” 


A PARTY 


191 


Caroline cut the cake; somebody produced ice 
cream and candy. The clatter rose. It was with 
difficulty that Hannah, rapping on the table, made 
herself heard. 

She held a book toward Caroline. 

‘^Just a remembrance, my dear,’’ she said. 
‘‘Long years hence, when some of us are old 
gray-haired spinsters, fudging about our ages, 
you will only have to look here to humble us.” 

“A birthday book — and with all your names! 
Oh, how I shall treasure it,” Caroline exclaimed, 
and Hannah bent to kiss her flushed cheek. 

Some one suggested dancing. The rugs were 
removed. Betty went to the piano. For an hour 
the flatiron room rang with music and laughter. 
In looking back across the years Caroline remem- 
bered the occasion as one of the very happiest 
in her life. 

But April brought other things besides parties. 
It brought final examinations, for if California 
opened her doors early, she also provided an early 
vacation. There was the usual sleepless week, 
the strong coffee, the ruffled dispositions. There 
were term papers and seminars ; hours filled with 
suspense and longing. 

Caroline emerged fairly well satisfied. Several 
days before college closed, she ran in upon Mar- 
garet for a visit. She dreaded going, for she 
knew that she and Margaret would never again 
visit in the pleasant room with its west windows 
and wide view of sea. 

A pleasant surprise awaited her. Margaret 


192 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


was not alone. In one of the most comfortable 
chairs sat a sunny-faced, middle-aged woman. 

‘‘This is my mother, Caroline,’’ Margaret said 
with pride and pleasure. “I am so glad you ran 
in.” 

Mrs. Mackintosh rose hastily, with hands ex- 
tended. “I know all about you, my dear,” she 
said, and kissed Caroline’s glowing cheek. 

“Of course you have come to see Margaret 
graduate 1 ’ ’ 

“Yes — I could scarcely forego that pleasure.” 

Caroline could see at a glance whence Mar- 
garet’s poise came. Though totally unlike her 
mother in form and features, she had the same 
gentle breeding, the same* hint of aristocratic 
ancestry. 

Caroline’s glance passed from one to the 
other. Mrs. Mackintosh was handsomer than her 
daughter, more vivacious. Her hair, black as 
midnight, was parted in the middle. It swept her 
ears in a shining plume. Her merry eyes were 
blue and tender, her long black lashes as irresis- 
tible as a girl’s. 

“I suppose you are wondering just where I ac- 
quired my Margaret,” she said with impulsive- 
ness that had been omitted from her daughter’s 
nature. “I will tell you. Margaret’s a Mackin- 
tosh — her mother’s a Gillouly. The Irish that 
should have run in her veins was drained by 
the Scotch. She’s her blessed father over 
again. ’ ’ 

She was an ideal mother; comely and comfort- 


A PARTY 


193 


able, with a warm heart and an intelligent out- 
look upon the world. A flash lay beneath the 
sunny sparkle of her eyes, a gentle dignity. 

There was a pleasant half-hour ^s chat, and 
Caroline rose to go. As she put her hand in 
Margaret ^s, she said : 

‘ ‘ It isn T good-by ; it ’s just Auf Wiedersehen. I 
don’t know why, but I have a feeling that I shall 
see you next year — one of old Maumy’s hunches. 
We won’t be together in this comfy room — but 
I shall see you often, just the same.” 

‘‘Not unless I get a school in this locality,” 
Margaret replied. “I fear that my college days 
are over for some time.” 

Outside* “The Tubs” Caroline met Biddy. She 
had not seen him so often since the Sunday night 
tea at the sorority house, though they continued 
to dance together at formal and informal dances ; 
to stop occasionally at the Varsity shop for an 
ice-cream soda, — a college custom. 

“I saw you going in and waited for you,” 
Biddy said quite frankly. “I want to know when 
you are leaving; and if Emma and I can see you 
to your train.” 

‘ ‘ That would be very kind. I go to-morrow — ^ 
in the morning. Will you sacriflce your usual 
holiday nap? The train leaves rather early.” 

“I would sacrifice a good deal for you, Caro- 
line — more, perhaps, than you would be willing 
to accept.” 

Caroline rather hastily changed the subject. 
It was not the first time that she had held him off, 


194 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


diverted the conversation. She had striven to 
keep their friendship sane and comradey. She 
did not believe in ‘^college cases’’, silly court- 
ships. She had not selected a coeducational insti- 
tution as an aid to marriage. 

With her usual tact she steered the conversa- 
tion to the impersonal. By the time they had 
reached the sorority house they were back on old, 
companionable grounds. He had told her of his 
summer plans — a trip into the wilderness with 
Emma — and she had graphically sketched her 
anticipated pleasures in the mountains. 

‘Ht is just possible I may see you in July,” he 
said in parting. ‘T may decide to run through 
Colorado from the Grand Canon.” 

She added a cordial invitation and he went 
away smiling. 

Saying good-by to the girls was rather more 
difficult, especially to her roommates whom she 
had come to love very dearly. 

The flatiron room had a lonesome look ; trunks 
and packing cases had been dumped uncere- 
moniously, walls were dismantled. Betty sat in 
a dejected heap in one of the comfortable over- 
staffed chairs. It seemed to envelope her. She 
had been crying. Caroline squeezed in beside 
her. 

‘‘Don’t be unhappy, honey,” she begged, and 
drew the fluttering little form closer. 

Betty’s shoulders heaved with sobs. Caroline 
patted them sympathetically. “What’s the 
matter?” she asked. 


A PARTY 


195 


‘‘It’s seeing you all leave for home,” Betty 
managed to say after a while. “It always puts 
me in the depths. You can’t quite understand, 
perhaps, what it means to be homeless — to spend 
your vacations in a lonely resort with an aunt 
four times your own age: an aunt who doesn’t 
care as much about you, really, as she does about 
her pet poodle.” 

Caroline was silent for a moment; she thought 
quickly. There was the guest room at home, big, 
comfortable — and empty. There were also 
vacant places at the table, — lonely, gaping places, 
for all Alison and Hope had been away for so 
long. There was Leigh — Leigh with her tender, 
mother arms always ready to throw about the un- 
fortunate. Leigh would welcome Betty as no one 
else could. 

And there was the Major, interested in every- 
body’s problems; Major would love cheering a 
forlorn little guest; Caroline could just see 
Betty’s hand squeezed in his, his kind eyes wel- 
coming her. 

“Betty,” she said suddenly, “turn round here; 
look at me. How would you like to go home with 
me and spend the summer!” 

Betty’s eyes widened with surprise, her sobs 
ceased. 

“Oh, my dear,” she said, and sat up straighter. 
“You are so kind to ask me, but I couldn’t — not 
without your family’s invitation.” 

“I will vouch for my family,” Caroline said 
without hesitation. “Southern people never 


196 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


mind guests. Hospitality is a part of their creed. 
At home, in Virginia, people used to come and go 
in a procession. But there’s one thing: if you 
come you will have to he one of us. We’re not 
wealthy, as you are. We keep hut one or two old 
servants in a good hig house. There’s work for 
everybody. You might have to help dust, and 
wipe dishes, and clean the refrigerator — well, 
mayhe not that, for Maumy’s terribly fussy about 
it, but you would have to make beds and attend 
to your own room.” 

‘‘As if I would mind! Caroline, you don’t 
know what you are proposing! Don’t ask me if 
you don’t mean it. To be in a home — a real 
home! I can’t imagine anything so thrilling. 
To just be allowed to do dishes and dust — ” 

“It gets tiresome — and it spoils your hands! 
Maybe we ’d do the dishes and let you play for us. 
We all adore music, and not one of us plays. It’s 
been a terrible disappointment to mother. She 
put us all through five-finger exercises religiously, 
but ‘nothing doing’ ! ’ ’ 

“But I really couldn’t go without their invita- 
tion — your family’s, could I?” Betty asked wist- 
fully. 

“They couldn’t very well say no, if I wired 
them. That would be rude. No, you come along 
and take a chance. I ’ll telegraph that I am bring- 
ing you, so your room can be put in order. That 
will be necessary. ’ ’ 

A busy afternoon followed. Betty’s trunks 
were crammed and strapped, the room stripped 


A PARTY 


197 


of all its contents and cleaned. Suit cases lined 
the walls. Here and there empty drawers yawned 
dejectedly. 

There was a scramble the next morning to 
make the train; hasty good-bys, good wishes 
and a few tears, for college days — and college 
separations — are made up of laughter and 
tears. 

Caroline could not refrain from contrasting 
that morning at the station with her arrival 
nearly a year before. She remembered the pangs 
of loneliness, the bewilderment, the utter desola- 
tion that had consumed her that gray autumn 
afternoon, and rejoiced in the friends that had 
gathered to speed her on her way. For Billy 
Boland and Sally had preceded her; they were 
waiting in the station with fruit and flowers. 
Margaret arrived a moment later with a neatly 
tied package; three or four of the sorority girls 
(Susan Stirling among them) had taken a circui- 
tous route and stormed the party with gifts of 
flowers. 

But it was Biddy who put Caroline and Betty 
safely aboard, depositing a huge box of candy in 
the seat beside them, Biddy who lingered for the 
last good-by and asked expectantly : 

‘‘Could I hope for a letter now and then, 
Caroline; one of those manuscripts such as IVe 
seen you mailing home occasionally 

Caroline, blushing warmly, answered : 

“If you are coming over in July — there won’t 
be much need of — manuscripts. Besides, I 


198 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


couldn^t track you in a wilderness. A messenger 
couldn^t see you for Enuna^s dust!’’ 

And Biddy departed with a smile that lingered 
in Caroline’s memory during the entire journey. 


CHAPTEE XVIII 


HOME 

C AROLINE’S telegram announcing the ar- 
rival of a guest caused scarcely a ripple of 
surprise in her family. It meant a little more 
baking for Maumy, putting the guest chamber to 
rights, and rather pleasurable anticipation. The 
house had been silent for so long that the sound 
of young voices through the halls and chambers 
was a welcome prospect. 

^‘I do hope it isn’t the ‘bug and beetle’ girl,” 
Mayre said, as she helped Leigh hang fresh cur- 
tains in the guest room. “I think I should be 
a little afraid of her.” 

“Perhaps it is Shu de Li,” Leigh suggested; 
“I rather hope so. I know we should like her 
from Caroline’s descriptions. You remember she 
said once that she looked like that old miniature 
mother has of Aunt Jane Summerville, taken 
when she was eighteen. I’ve always loved that, 
with her honey-colored hair smoothed over her 
ears and her large blue eyes open in perpetual 
wonder. It was Shu de Li’s eyes, Caroline said, 
and the hair, that reminded her of Aunt Jane.” 


200 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


‘‘And her quaint clothes/’ Mayre added. 
“You know she said she rather ran to soft silks 
and taffetas; distinctive, original things.” 

“Perhaps she affects a certain type — girls so 
often do,” Leigh answered, shaking up the 
pillows on the couch. “Shall we put anemones 
in this gray vase, or bluebells, dear — you always 
know so much better than I about combinations.” 

Mayre considered with half-closed eyes. 

“Anemones, I think, but I will run downstairs 
for the low blue bowl. How nice everything 
looks !” 

The room was attractive. Feminine touches 
gave a daintiness, softened the austerity of the 
high four-poster bed that generations of dead- 
and-gone Kirtleys had occupied, and produced a 
homey aspect that could not fail to be welcoming. 

Leigh smoothed the pillows under embroidered 
shams, moved a reading lamp closer, deftly 
straightened the fresh tidies on the stuffed chairs 
(Mrs. Kirtley had never given up tidies though 
styles had changed) and lowered the blinds to a 
proper angle. 

“Now, if it just doesn’t storm, or the wind 
blow,” she said, stopping in the doorway for a 
last look. “And I do hope that, whoever she is, 
she will be happy with us and enjoy her stay. I 
always feel that if one leaves a loving wish in a 
room, it reaches the guest. I don’t just know 
how. Perhaps it’s the comfort that speaks, the 
way things are arranged. ’ ’ 

And fifty miles away, Caroline, almost counting 


HOME 


201 


the revolutions of the wheels that were so swiftly 
hearing her homeward, could scarcely contain her 
joy. 

As her beloved mountains came in sight, she 
threw an affectionate arm around Betty’s 
shoulder. ‘‘You must watch,” she said, and 
there was a little catch in her voice. “You are 
going to see him in a minute — the Peak!” 

With the first glimpse of his noble head raised 
among the clouds, the catch turned to a half-sob. 
In silence they watched the panorama unfold. 
Against a sapphire sky the rugged outline grew, 
softened with fleecy clouds and blue-gray shadows. 
Presently Cheyenne’s rugged shoulder came in 
view. The Peak stood out bolder. The shadows 
deepened. A feeling of possession came over 
Caroline. That range, with its towering peaks, 
its wavering outline flung against the sky, was 
hers ! A part of her very being. 

It was an affectionate welcome that awaited 
Caroline at the station. She had scarcely disen- 
tangled herself from the Major’s arms when she 
brought Betty into the group ; Betty had hovered 
outside, envying the recipient of those rapturous 
kisses, envying the happy exclamations of a re- 
united family. 

‘ ‘ So this is Betty, ’ ’ Leigh said, and shyly kissed 
her. 

But it was the Major’s chivalry as he bent over 
her hand that sent a warm thrill to her heart. He 
was so dignified — yet so cordial. 

Mrs. Eavenel was awaiting her daughter’s 


202 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


home-coming on the steps of the veranda. Her 
arms opened and Caroline rushed into them. 
Leigh followed with Betty. ^‘May I present you 
to our mother/’ she said with old-fashioned cour- 
tesy and respect. Mother, this is Betty Carew 
of whom Caroline has so often written. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Ravenel smiled as she put forth a cordial 
hand. Betty had no further doubts about her 
welcome. 

After nearly a year’s absence, Caroline was 
again a gay, care-free child. She wandered from 
one room to another, dragging Betty after her. 
There were few changes. One would scarcely 
expect changes in Mrs. Ravenel’s home. The 
stately furniture was still placed as nearly as pos- 
sible in positions of former grandeur. The sofa 
remained before the wide fireplace; the heavy 
mahogany card tables with books and photographs 
at either end, the reading lamps at a comfortable 
angle. Paintings still hung in tarnished frames. 

But there were changes in the neighborhood. 
Caroline noted them immediately. 

‘^The Ludlow house looks so diiferent,” she 
said, glancing through the window. ‘ ‘ Has it been 
painted, or something?” 

^^The Ludlows aren’t there any more,” Mayre 
said, as if dreading to break unpleasant news. 
^‘They have built a smaller house out at Broad- 
more and moved into it. They wanted more 
ground, I think; and now that Jimmy is away so 
much — ” 

She hesitated, as if choosing an explanation. 


HOME 203 

Later, in the privacy of her little studio, she 
finished : 

^‘It is reported that Mr. Ludlow lost a great 
deal of money in stocks. I don^t know how true 
it is, but of course we all know that people do, 
here. There was Mr. Sutton who went to bed a 
plumber, and woke up a millionaire — and those 
Draytons, who lost everything they owned in 
Cripple Creek. It^s an old story.’’ 

‘^Strange Jimmy didn’t mention moving,” 
Caroline said, ‘^but his letters haven’t been regu- 
lar. I think he got tired of my college patter. ’ ’ 

During the late afternoon visitors dropped in: 
Kathleen, Muriel Eoach, and one or two of 
the boys : Ned Adams and Scotty Eandolf, old 
friends of Caroline. Out on the shady veranda 
Maumy served tea, her black face radiating her 
joy at ‘‘Li’l’ Mis’s” return. 

They had almost finished when a car stopped 
at the curb. Mrs, Ludlow alighted, followed by 
Jimmy. 

think you are all too dear, to come right 
away,” Caroline whispered, as she kissed Mrs. 
Ludlow. ‘‘I couldn’t bear it when Mayre told 
me that you had moved. I resent people living 
over there — in your home — ” 

‘‘But you must see the new bungalow,” Mrs. 
Ludlow said happily. 

Jimmy’s eyes flashed a welcome and he held 
Caroline’s hand a trifle, longer than courtesy de- 
manded. As usual he was immaculate and com- 
manding, with an atmosphere of the business 


204 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


world about him. Caroline watched his alert step 
as he crossed the porch to shake hands with her 
mother and acknowledge the introduction to 
Betty. 

She smiled at the thought that flashed through 
her mind: Jimmy’s feet were executive, they had 
an expression of determination. 

She was laughing as he came back to her. 

‘‘Why these chuckles?” he asked. 

“Can’t one laugh — just at being home? It’s 
wonderful ! ’ ’ 

“You have grown.” 

“So says my family.” 

“And you are older — ” 

‘ ‘ A year — nearly. ’ ’ 

“I don’t mean in years — experience.” 

“Possibly.” 

They found a seat at the end of the veranda. 
His glance still swept her face. 

“Glad to be back?” 

“I’m so happy I can’t talk; I’ve been getting 
things all mixed up. And everybody looks so 
well, Major and mother — the girls.” 

“Yes — and you — ” 

“I couldn’t be better!” 

He was still studying her, wondering about the 
change. What was it? She was just as color- 
ful, there was the same verve. He knew pres- 
ently. She had gained poise. And there were 
little airs and graces quite foreign to the old 
Caroline — not affectations, he could not have 
borne that, but sudden gestures, discrimination in 


HOME 205 

the use of words, a shrug of the slender, still boy- 
ish shoulders. 

He resented the acquired mannerisms; Caro- 
line had gone away as clear-cut and distinctive, as 
individual as the old mountain they sat facing. 

^‘What is itV^ she asked after a moment. 
‘ ‘ Have I changed so — very much ? ’ ’ 

^‘You are different. You are more — com- 
posite.” 

^‘Naturally. When one lives in a house with 
twenty-seven girls, one imitates unconsciously.” 
dare say.” 

There was a move along the veranda. Kath- 
leen passed them. 

‘‘Don’t get up,” she said. “I just ran in to 
say hello. Wonderful to have you home again, 
Caroline. Good-by, everybody!” 

Visitors soon began to take leave. Mrs. Lud- 
low ran a motherly finger down Jimmy’s collar 
as she came by. Jimmy roused, stretched his 
long limbs and took Caroline ’s hand again. 

“Good-by,” he said. “May I run in once in a 
while — as before ? ’ ’ 

She nodded. “Please do. You must all help 
me to give Betty a good time. She’s shipping 
her car over — ‘ The Gray Peril ’ we called it at the 
sorority house. We’re going to have picnics no 
end. You’ll come!” 

At the curb he turned and waved the hand that 
held his gloves. Caroline felt a glow within her 
heart. He was the old, blithe Jimmy, for all his 
business cares. 


206 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


The days, filled to the brim with happiness and 
pleasure, began to slip by at an alarming pace. 
May vanished at a bound and June slipped in un- 
knowingly, June with its long blue and gold after- 
noons. 

Betty fitted into the family life as satisfactorily 
as if she had been born and bred a Virginian. She 
was extremely lovable, very helpful. 

‘T caint believe that thar little gal she done 
come from up Norf’’ (any place outside the south 
was ‘‘Norf’’), Maumy confided to Jennie Pearl, 
the young assistant who peeled her vegetables and 
ran errands. She’s got all the year-marks of 
the South; gen’rous, an’ kind an’ perlite — yes’m, 
perlite ! ’ ’ 

Maumy ’s opinion was well grounded. Many 
a silver dollar from Betty’s generous purse found 
its way into her black palm ; many a quarter and 
dime. 

^‘Please just take it and say nothing,” Betty 
begged, when Maumy protested. ‘T know that 
a guest makes more work in the kitchen.” 

There were other ways in which Betty helped. 
^‘The Gray Peril” was often at the doctor’s dis- 
posal for a quick call. 

^‘Do, please, let me drive you,” she would beg 
anxiously. “The ‘Peril’s’ all ready; I got gas 
this morning.” Sometimes, too, Mrs. Ravenel 
was inveigled into a spin across the mesa before 
dinner, or Leigh was carried to her poor charges 
on the south side of town. 

Betty was discriminating. Mrs. Ravenel ap- 


HOME 


207 


preciated that. She never intruded, never took 
liberties. She spent hours by herself, so that the 
family life might not be infringed upon. She 
came home laden with little gifts : flowers for the 
table; candy for Mayre, who had a sweet tooth; 
books and magazines for the Major and Leigh. 
She was irresistibly pretty, with her brown hair 
and clear gray eyes : petite and dainty. 

Betty loved the long summer evenings. She 
loved seeing the family gather in the living room 
when it grew cool on the veranda : summer nights 
in Colorado carry a chill. Her favorite place was 
near Leigh, squeezed in beside her, if possible, in 
one of the worn brocade chairs, her hand in 
Leigh’s slender white one, — a hand that now 
boasted a brilliant solitaire, Blair’s token of 
love. 

She loved to watch Mrs. Ravenel’s placid face 
as she read in her sweet Southern way, watch the 
jewels on her hands as they flashed in the glow 
of the lazy fire. 

Sometimes the lights were turned out and she 
played for them on the rosewood piano : ‘^Love’s 
Old Sweet Song” and ^‘Believe Me if all Those 
Endearing Young Charms” or ‘‘Oft in the Stilly 
Night” — favorites of Mrs. Eavenel’s — weaving 
in variations. 

Often after she had hade the family good night, 
she would go up to her cosy room and cry her- 
self to sleep with the sweetness of it. Leigh, one 
night, carrying her a belated letter, found her lost 
in the depths of the big bed, sobbing violently. 


208 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


‘^Why, what has happened, darling T’ she said, 
bending tenderly over the shaking form. 

‘‘Nothing, nothing at all,’’ Betty managed to 
gasp between sobs — “nothing except that — I — 
am — so happy. ’ ’ 

And one night in the quiet of Leigh’s room after 
the others slept, Betty told the story of her tragic 
life; how her mother and father had died in an 
accident when she was eight years old. How she 
had been watched over and directed by a grouchy, 
but honest and devoted friend of her father’s: a 
bachelor who knew nothing about the heartaches 
of a lonely child. At eighteen — a year before — 
she had come into her inheritance, though the 
guardian still looked after her interests. Her 
only relative was an aged aunt, a spinster who 
lived in large hotels and carried a pet dog about 
with her. 

Leigh’s heart was touched. “But that’s all 
past now, you know,” she said a:ffectionately, 
“for you have a home — here with us. We’re 
going to adopt you ! ’ ’ 

Sometimes during those June evenings, Jimmy 
Ludlow dropped in. If Betty were playing, 
which was often the case, he slipped quietly into 
the big chair near the piano and smoked silently. 
Betty always played better for his presence and 
attention; she knew not why. Occasionally she 
would glance at his handsome profile, turned 
toward the hearth — and look away quickly. His 
eyes always rested upon Caroline, sitting Japa- 
nese fashion on the hearthrug, gazing into the fire. 


HOME 


209 


Jimmy also dropped in once and a while in the 
late afternoon. If he were fortunate enough to 
find Caroline alone, they chatted together on the 
veranda, or he took her for a spin in his car. 

A few weeks with her family had rubbed off 
sorority edges, the mannerisms that had at first 
worried him. She was herself again; straight- 
forward, unaffected, a perfect companion. Often 
he forgot that she was a girl, she was so free from 
feminine artifices. 

The conversation was more or less general. 
Once, and only once, in talking with her, did he 
mention his father’s reverses, and then with an 
attitude Caroline thoroughly understood and com- 
mended. He was not downcast by adversity. 

‘‘Father’s been a little unfortunate in his in- 
vestments, you know,” he said frankly. “Went 
a little too steep in ‘Pharmacist’, hut he’ll pull 
out again. I think he rather likes beginning 
again at fifty; there’s a lure about it. We’re en- 
joying the cottage down at Broadmore; less 
trouble for mother. Have you seen her garden? 
Mayre helped her lay it out. Great! I must 
bring you some of her yellow roses.” 

That was all — a bare mention. Misfortune 
met with a smile, a challenge. 

Sometimes he talked of his own business. The 
law was slow, but it was sure and interesting. 
He rather liked having a hand in people’s diffi- 
culties ; it was great when things came his way — 
tangles straightened. 

There were other pleasures. One was to drive 


210 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


up into the mountains, stopping at the head of a 
beautiful canon for tea in a quaint log cabin, pre- 
sided over by two college girls. Those were cosy 
visits. Sometimes, if it were cold, as it often was 
so high up, they drew a table near the fireplace 
and reveled in the warmth and glow of the blaz- 
ing logs; if warm, they basked in the sunlight 
of a wide window. 

Sometimes they were late in arriving home. 
There were woodsy paths to explore; flowers to 
gather; brooks to dabble in — chipmunks and 
squirrels to watch. It was then that he put aside 
conventions and called her Gypsy’’, a name that 
sent a wave of color flying to her dusky cheeks. 

Once on the way home they stopped to see his 
mother. It was rather disconcerting to find Mrs. 
Ludlow in the kitchen directing a young, inex- 
perienced maid in the art of cooking. 

^Tt’s such fun,” she said, untying a spotless 
gingham apron and hanging it on a hook behind 
the door. ‘^Just like beginning housekeeping 
over again. It makes me young. ’ ’ 

‘‘Jimmy insisted upon bringing me out here,” 
Caroline apologized. 

“Jimmy’s just learning what a nice place a 
kitchen is,” his mother said, glancing proudly at 
the white enameled woodwork and the geraniums 
blooming on the window sill. 

But it was the scurrying home in the early twi- 
light that Caroline Idved best. The clear stretch 
of country, the little homes with their flourishing 
gardens. Wild roses peeping through hedges. 


HOME 


211 


The village streets ; children playing in the road, 
laughing and calling to each other, impishly dar- 
ing Jimmy ^s machine. The spicy odors that 
floated on the breeze from busy housewives’ 
kitchens; the cottonwoods fanned of their tiny 
puff balls ; the fragrant mint along the ditches. 

Those summer evenings seared themselves into 
her consciousness with indelible joy. The fresh 
tang of the mountain air, half chilling as it blew 
in from the Peak, the night’s tranquillity. 

And the Major was sure to be waiting for them 
on the veranda, peering down the avenue a trifle 
anxiously, though he never failed to say : 

knew, of course, that Caroline was all right 
with you, Jimmy, but it is growing late.” 

Caroline loved the flush that for a moment 
swept Jimmy’s face, his never-failing, Thank 
you. Major, I appreciate your confidence. The 
canon was beautiful this afternoon. We have 
some rare columbines for you.” 

Thus June gave place to July with her sultry 
afternoons and cool, starlit nights. 


CHAPTER XIX 


CAROLINE MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 

J IMMY LUDLOW, driving up one midsummer 
afternoon, found Lis place at the Ravenel 
curb taken by a flaming red car. He looked at 
it in surprise. Its wheels were clogged with dirt, 
its crimson sides begrimed and dusty. It had 
evidently seen service on a long hard road. 

Maumy’s face was rather clouded as she ad- 
mitted him. ‘^Mis^ Caroline, she done got com- 
pany from Calif orny,” she said, making sure that 
the door into the drawing-room was closed. 
^‘Hit^s a young gen ’man.’’ 

Jimmy started to back out, fumbling for a mo- 
ment with his cardcase. 

‘‘Just tell Miss Caroline that I called, please, 
Rachel, will you ? ’ ’ 

“Ain’t y’gwine come long in? I knows Miss 
Caroline wants to see y’all.” 

Caroline must have heard voices, for she ap- 
peared at the door and added her invitation to 
Maumy’s. 

“Of course you are coming in,” she insisted; 
“I want you to meet Biddy Webster. He’s re- 
turning from the Grand Canon — wonderful trip. 
He’s just been telling me about it.” 


MEETS AN ACQUAINTANCE 213 

A moment later Biddy was striding across ttie 
room to shake hands cordially. 

‘TVe heard of you,’^ Jimmy said, with his in- 
gratiating smile. ^^Your car looks as if you had 
found the roads rather bad.’^ 

Biddy was enthusiastic about his trip. A pleas- 
ant half-hour followed. 

And, strangely enough, simultaneously with 
Biddy ^s appearance came a telegram from Shu de 
Li to Caroline. 

‘‘Accepting your kind invitation and stopping 
off for a few days’ visit on my way home,” it 
read. 

Betty insisted upon taking Shu de Li in with 
her. Maumy fussed a little about extra company, 
Leigh hurried over the house and through the 
pantries, but on the whole, the news was received 
with pleasure. 

“Shu de Li’s been East on a visit,” Caroline 
explained, ‘ ‘ and I insisted upon her stopping over 
if she came back this way. I know that you will 
all like her and enjoy her visit.” 

The gayest kind of a week followed. Leigh 
managed an afternoon tea to which all the young 
people were bidden; Jimmy gave a small dinner 
dance at the Country Club ; there were luncheons, 
picnics and mountain excursions. Biddy, with 
his big car, was a welcome acquisition. 

Caroline’s rides into the canons and over the 
mesa with Jimmy, of necessity, came to an end. 
She was a busy and untiring hostess, unselfish in 
the extreme. She felt under obligations to Biddy. 


214 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


So often on the campus he had singled her out 
for his favors and now, under her own blue sky, 
she felt she must give him as much of her com- 
panionship as possible. 

It became the usual thing for her to say when 
the young people started off for an evening ^s 
entertainment: ‘‘Take Betty with you, please, 
Jim; 111 go with the crowd — Emma’s so gener- 
ous — she carries so many.” 

Jimmy smilingly acquiesced, but Betty observed 
that, although his manner was pleasant and agree- 
able, he often lapsed into silences, — long dreamy 
silences. It took all her ingenuity to keep him 
interested. 

The week passed in a mad rush. Shu de Li 
was very popular, especially with Caroline’s 
family. The Major liked her sparkling conver- 
sation, her keen comments, her entertaining tales 
of foreign life. Mrs. Ravenel enjoyed her music 
— when Shu de Li could find a moment to play 
for her — and Mayre had many happy hours go- 
ing over her quaint costumes and Chinese trinkets. 

The household, including Maumy, mourned 
when she announced at the end of ten days that 
she really must move homeward. Her father was 
expecting her in San Francisco. Mayre, with a 
sigh, watched the two large trunks depart. 
Maumy shoved a crisp five-dollar bill into the 
depths of her pocket and shared Mayre ’s de- 
pression. Tears stood in Caroline ’s eyes. 

‘ ‘ It has been just wonderful, my dear, ’ ’ Shu de 
Li said to Caroline at the station. “I’ve never 


MEETS AN ACQUAINTANCE 215 

seen sucli hospitality. I am quite crazy about the 
lovely Major — your mother too. Please try to 
make them understand how I have loved being 
here, and write to me immediately,^’ 

Biddy took his departure the next day. The 
Eavenel abode resumed its normal quiet. 

It was the Sunday after Shu de Li’s departure 
that a most unusual thing happened. The family 
had finished dinner. Doctor Eavenel was taking 
his accustomed rest on the sofa; his wife sat near 
with her hook on her lap. Betty was at the piano 
playing softly. The telephone rang. It was 
Caroline who answered. Her mother heard her 
answering questions in a surprised way, and went 
into the hall. 

Caroline was protesting. ‘‘But I really 
couldn’t come unless you tell me who you are,” 
she said, repeating the statement several times. 
“Can’t you tell me who is speaking? Yes, I am 
Caroline Eavenel — you are not mistaken. ’ ’ 

Finally, a little annoyed, she hung up the re- 
ceiver. 

“Well,” she remarked, as she sat down beside 
Betty on the piano bench, “that was the most 
amazing conversation I ever had over a tele- 
phone. ’ ’ 

The family was interested. 

“What was the trouble?” Leigh asked, coming 
in from the dining room. 

Caroline ran her hand across her forehead in a 
dazed fashion. The Major roused from the sofa. 

“Why — why — it was a girl — or a woman. 


216 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


She asked if I were Caroline Ravenel. I said 
‘yes/ Then she said she must see me at once on 
important business — immediately! She said 
there was something that must be explained — 

“Yes, darling, go on,^’ Mrs. Ravenel insisted 
when Caroline paused. She was mildly excited. 

“I asked her name. She said that she couldnT 
give it. I insisted. She refused. She said that 
she was at the hotel and would wait for me there 
until five o^clock — 

“My child, what did you sscyV’ Mrs. Ravenel, 
thoroughly alarmed, had risen from her chair. 

“Why, I said that I could scarcely go to the 
hotel alone to see a person who would not give her 
name — ’’ 

“Certainly not.” 

‘ ‘ Then she said she would come out here. ’ ^ 

“Here?” There was a chorus of voices. 

“And I told her that I could not entertain her 
— without knowing her errand and who she 
was — ” 

“And then — ” 

‘ ‘ Then she hung up — and so did I. ’ ^ 

The Major had listened attentively to Caro- 
line’s recital. Presently he rose and went into 
his office. Closing the door he took down the re- 
ceiver of his private telephone. 

It did not take long to trace the call. In a few 
minutes the hotel clerk reported that it had come 
from a room occupied by a young girl, whose 
name he gave. 

Half an hour later, the Major found Caroline 


MEETS AN ACQUAINTANCE 217 

and proposed a walk. She was not surprised 
when he turned toward the hotel. 

‘‘You are going to find this — person!’^ she 
asked. 

“Yes; it may be some one who needs our 
help.” 

They did not inquire for the girl at the office, 
but, taking the elevator, went straight to the 
room. A gentle knock brought no response. The 
Major waited, then knocked again imperatively. 

There was a light footfall across the floor. A 
key turned in the lock and a slender young girl 
of about Caroline's own age — or younger — 
peered through a narrow space. 

“You wished to see Miss Ravenel?” the Major 
inquired kindly. 

Under a coat of powder and rouge, the girPs 
face paled. She stepped back, and with a startled 
gesture put her hand to her throat. 

“Yes,” she began, and stopped. “Will you 
come in?” 

It was a comfortable room — one of the best 
the house afforded. Major Ravenel looked about 
while the girl pushed forward chairs. A huge 
wardrobe trunk occupied a corner; a table was 
filled with books and magazines. On the bureau 
stood the photographs of a middle-aged man and 
woman, — respectable-looking people, if one could 
judge by photographs. 

“You wished to see me about something?” 
Caroline began. 

A flush crept under the coat of powder. 


218 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


^‘Yes — I saw your picture in the paper this 
morning — you and your friends, and you looked 
like a girl I sort of knew once — back in Omaha 

— and I thought I would call you up and see if 
you were her — 

She hesitated. The flush died, leaving the 
pretty oval face white again. 

^ ‘ I see. But I have never been in Omaha. ’ ’ 

^^AinT you really? This girl, she looked a lot 
like you — she had them big yellow-brown 
eyes — 

She stopped again and lowered her own. 

It gave Caroline a chance to study her face. 
Her glance traveled from the ratted blonde hair 
that stood like a brush heap above the round blue 
eyes, to the gaudy pink blouse, to which a gold 
watch was pinned conspicuously; to the elabo- 
rate necklace wound about the low, square-cut 
neck of the bodice — down to the small nervous 
hands. 

Suddenly Caroline bent closer, and gave a little 
gasp of surprise. On the finger of the girPs left 
hand was a ring with a small cluster of pearls, — 
an unusual ring, one not easily forgotten. 

Caroline reached over and took the hand in 
hers. ‘‘Will you tell me, please, where you got 
this ring — the pearl ? ^ ’ 

The child — she seemed scarcely more than that 

— looked up wistfully. 

‘ ‘ That ’s sort of a mascot that I always wear, ’ ’ 
she said quickly. “IVe had it ever since I was 
a little girl. It was given to me. I was sick — 


MEETS AN ACQUAINTANCE 219 

Dr. Ravenel had drawn closer and was listen- 
ing attentively. 

‘Tt was when my mother was alive — ’’ She 
glanced toward the picture on the bureau. 
‘‘ThaCs her over there — and my father. 
They’re both dead now. We had come up from 
the South for her health. She was awful miser- 
able, and father had sold out everything to bring 
her here — to this town it was — over there some- 
where.” She pointed with a jerky movement to 
the west. 

‘‘Yes,” Caroline breathed, “go on, please; I am 
so interested.” 

“One day — it was just before Christmas — I 
took sick — awful sick. They thought I was go- 
ing to die. We sent for a lot of doctors, but it 
was so cold and the snow was so deep they 
wouldn’t come. Finally one did; he brought his 
little girl with him. They came again Christmas, 
and the little girl left a package at the back door. 
This ring was in it — in a little velvet box. 
Mother brought it in to me and I put it on — and 
then — mother said that from that minute I be- 
gan to get better. You see I had never had a 
‘pretty’ before — ” 

“A pretty?” Caroline breathed the familiar 
word. 

“That’s what I called it — I was just a little 
thing — ” 

“Yes, so little — I remember — ” 

“You remember!” 

“I was — that little girl.” 


220 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


For a moment they sat staring at each other. 
Slowly tears found their way from the blue eyes 
and trickled down the powdered cheeks. The 
Major rose suddenly and going over to the win- 
dow stood looking down at the street below. 

‘^But what happened to you after you went 
awayr^ Caroline asked. ^‘We so often won- 
dered. ’ ^ 

‘^We went up to Cripple Creek where the big 
mines are. It was too high up there for mother. 
Her heart got bad. And then — she died — 
am so sorry — ’’ 

‘‘Yes; it was too bad — for just a little while 
after that, father struck it rich — terrible rich! 
And it all came so easy to him. Jeff Taylor — 
that was his partner — always said that father 
just stubbed his toe on a rock and uncovered the 
Homestake.’’ 

“The Homestake!’’ The exclamation came 
from both the Major and Caroline. 

“Yes — it^s a wonderful mine, isn’t it?” 

“Marvelous.” It was the Major who spoke. 
He had turned away from the window. “And 
you say that you own it?” 

“Jeff and I together. You see, father he died 
last year. Pneumonia. You don’t last very 
long with pneumonia up in the hills, you know.” 
She sighed deeply. 

The Major took the chair opposite her and 
looked into the blue eyes. 

“And now will you tell me what you wanted 
to say to my daughter?” he asked gently. 


MEETS AN ACQUAINTANCE 221 

There was only a moment ’s hesitation. Eunice 
Middleton went over to the bed. A newspaper 
lay open. With her finger she traced a picture of 
three young girls, serving afternoon tea in a gar- 
den. 

Mrs. Eavenel had objected to the picture when 
it was tahen. She disliked notoriety, disliked 
having unknown people gazing upon her 
daughter’s face, but Leigh had thought it a little 
snobbish to refuse; besides, the community was 
interested in the joys of college girls home for 
vacation. 

Eunice held up the paper. 

‘‘It was your face,” she said to Caroline, “that 
attracted me. You looked so pretty — and kind. 
I noticed it this morning, first thing. I was 
awfully lonesome. I don’t know anybody in 
town. I just came down from the ‘Creek’ last 
week. Jetf thought I ought to know some 
girls and get into society with all my money. 
I can have everything I want — most every- 
thing — ” 

“And you thought I would help you — find so- 
ciety?” 

Eunice nodded frankly. “Yes — I thought — 
maybe it wasn’t quite square, but I had an idea 
if I got acquainted with you, even if I had to make 
up something — a story, you know, like saying 
there was something that ought to he explained to 
you — why — why — we’d get acquainted that 
way. I intended to tell you about it afterward, 
and maybe buy you something pretty — ” 


222 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


‘‘And you didn^t dream that you had ever 
really seen me before?’’ 

“No — oh, no !” 

Caroline glanced at the Major. He had reached 
over and taken Eunice’s little thin hand in his 
own. 

“What is it you want,” he asked, “more than 
anything else?” 

“Just friends. People think money’s such an 
awful lot — and it is, but there are some things 
it won’t buy, you know. I’ve got a pretty good 
education; I’ve been through high school. I’m 
eighteen. Jeff thinks I ought to go to boarding 
school now and get polished off, but I don’t know. 
I think I would rather stay here. It’s a pretty 
place, and this is a good hotel — ” 

“Oh, but you mustn’t stay here alone,” Caro- 
line interrupted. 

“I know how to take care of myself,” Eunice 
put in quickly. “A girl brought up in a mining 
camp does. Ain’t nobody going to get fresh with 
me.” 

The Major and Caroline exchanged glances; 
rather helpless glances that, interpreted, might 
have read: “WTiat shall we do with her? We 
must do something.” 

Caroline thought but a moment. 

“Would you like to come home with us for a 
little while — and have tea out in the garden — 
the one in the picture? We’re having it there 
this evening.” 

She turned to her father. 


MEETS AN ACQUAINTANCE 223 

^‘1 wonder, Major, if you would wait for us 
downstairs,’’ she said. ‘T want to speak with 
Eunice alone for a minute.” 

The Major’s footsteps had scarcely died away 
in the hall when she crossed the room and put an 
impetuous arm around the forlorn little figure 
near the window. 

‘T am going to ask you to do something for 
me,” she said tactfully, since I am trying to 
help you. I couldn’t take you home to my mother 
and sisters with all that make-up on your face. 
You see — it isn’t done here — in society (she 
smiled at the word) not as it is in — Cripple 
Creek, perhaps.” 

Eunice was inclined to doubt the statement, but 
she consented to remove it, returning from the 
private bath clean and wholesomely attractive. 

^^My, how much prettier you are!” Caroline 
cried, genuinely pleased. She longed to get at 
the bushy hair with its burned and split ends ; to 
suggest a less transparent blouse, but she re- 
frained. 

^‘Hadn’t I better put on another dress'?” 
Eunice suggested, her eyes bright with the pros- 
pect of a party. have some wonderful eve- 
ning clothes — ” 

^‘We don’t dress for Sunday night tea; perhaps 
if you have a one-piece dress — 

‘Thave; it’s new, too.” 

She brought from the closet a light-weight navy 
blue serge, none too warm for a Colorado eve- 
ning. It was simple and neat. Caroline waited 


224 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


while Eunice put it on; together they joined the 
Major in the lobby. 

It was very late that same night when Caroline, 
in kimono and slippers, tapped at the Major’s 
office door. 

^‘May I come in for just a minute?” she asked. 
‘T can’t get to sleep. I came downstairs for a 
sandwich and a glass of milk, and saw your 
light. ’ ’ 

With his usual courtesy, the Major drew forth 
a chair. 

want to say first, Major, that I think it was 
perfectly dear the way you introduced Eunice to 
mother and the girls — just saying she was a lit- 
tle patient you once had years ago on the West 
side. It was exactly what I had planned to say 
myself. Isn’t it strange how often we think the 
same things? I couldn’t bear to have any one — 
not even Leigh — know about her pitiful little 
subterfuge. Wasn’t it touching — I couldn’t 
keep the tears back; alone there in that barn of 
a room, friendless — with all that ghastly money. 
Did you ever hear such a fairy tale in your life? 
Talk about Aladdin’s lamp!” 

The Major laughed softly. 

Caroline rambled on: ‘‘Could such a thing 
happen anywhere else in the world, Major — a for- 
tune made over night! Over night. Can you 
grasp it?” 

“I reckon it is true, honey. I suspect the old 
chap was right; Middleton probably did stub his 
toe on a piece of rich ore — and had the tenacity 


MEETS AN ACQUAINTANCE 225 

and sense to hold on long enough to mine the 
ground. ’ ’ 

For a moment they sat in silence. Caroline 
broke it : 

‘‘Wasn^t it the strangest thing that she should 
have called me — there were other pictures in the 
paper — Oh, Major,’’ she broke off, “the angels 
do keep blue prints and mark out people’s des- 
tinies. I know it. Eunice needed me — and I 
need her.” 

“You need her?” The question came with 
surprise. 

“Yes; listen. I have a plan. That’s why I 
couldn’t get to sleep. Eunice can’t live at that 
hotel. It is absurd. Her salvation lies in edu- 
cation — practical education. She’s ready for 
college — ” 

Although it was past midnight, the Major set- 
tled back in his chair and lighted a fresh cigar. 

“Yes, honey, go on, I am listening.” 

“You remember my roommate, Margaret — 
you know how she stood by me that time — I have 
told you all about it — oh. Major, you can never 
know what an experience that was. I don’t know 
how I ever lived through it without you — I can ’t 
speak of it yet. Well, anyway, I owe Margaret a 
debt I can never pay — just for her love and sym- 
pathy — her faith.” 

She hesitated but a moment. 

“Margaret is poor. As poor as this girl is 
rich. She wants to take a course in law, but she 
hasn’t the money; she can’t come back to college 


226 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


for several years. Now,’’ Caroline laid a deter- 
mined forefinger in the palm of a brown hand, 
much as a man would do in presenting a propo- 
sition, ‘‘now, why couldn’t Eunice go back to col- 
lege with me, take a house in Berkeley — a pretty, 
comfy one, and bring Margaret and her mother 
up there to live with her — pay them something 
for their care and direction — a right good sum, 
since she can so well atford it. How much do you 
suppose she’s worth. Major?” 

The Major leaned back and smoked comfortably. 

“Over a million, I fancy.” 

“Over a million. Major? That’s positively — 
indecent V’ 

“Almost, honey — for one lone young person.” 

“What’s she going to do with it?” 

“Spend it, I suppose.” 

“Oh, Major, what a power she could be — if 
she were trained.” 

“Yes.” 

“And Mrs. Mackintosh is so wise, such a won- 
derful woman. I wish you could see what she 
has done for Margaret — and with almost noth- 
ing. She’d mother Eunice. I can just see the 
poor little thing in those kind arms. Besides, she 
is a lady; she is a gentlewoman. And Margaret 
could teach Eunice — repression — as she tried 
to teach me. Margaret ’s a little cold — and cal- 
culating, but Scotchly honest, if you can put it 
that way.” 

The Major did not speak for a while. 

“It is a very pretty dream,” he admitted later. 


MEETS AN ACQUAINTANCE 227 

^‘And you may be able to manage it — if it is in 
the blue prints!’’ He smiled into the warm en- 
thusiastic eyes ; a tender, adoring smile that found 
reflection in the topaz ones opposite. 

Anyway, I am going to try the scheme out. 
Major. To-morrow I will take the ^ Peril’ while 
Betty’s practising, and pick up this rich young 
Miss and talk with her. She owes me something 
herself — I once sacrificed the prettiest thing I 
owned for her. I can remember yet how I sopped 
my pillow weeping over the little pearl ring she 
still wears. Perhaps — who knows, it is a 
mascot.” 

The Major rose, left a kiss on Caroline’s hot 
cheek, turned out the light, and gently pushed her 
into the darkness. 

‘Tt is time we were both in bed,” he said, and 
waited while she climbed the stairs ahead of him. 


CHAPTER XX 


LEIGH GIVES THE FAMILY A SITRPKISE 

V ACATION days were waning, much to Betty’s 
and Caroline’s regret. It was difficult to 
give one’s attention to studies in midsummer, es- 
pecially when university students from aU over 
the country were beginning to arrive home, — 
free to play until early October. 

‘^But we were out of college so much earlier,” 
Caroline defended, when Betty complained. ‘Ht 
is just as broad as it is long, you know. Of 
course, I realize — ” 

She stopped and her trilling laugh bubbled. 
^‘You realize what!” 

^^That it is rather hard, when Yale opens so 
late, and you might have two perfectly good 
months here with Stan and the ^ Peril. ’ I ’m sorry, 
dear. ’ ’ 

A pink flush made its way up Betty’s round 
cheek. Stanley Warren, one of the boys long 
known to the Ravenels, had been very attentive 
during his short sojourn at home. Betty had 
met him at Jimmy’s dinner dance. There had 
been several excursions into the canons; several 
cozy dinners at the Country Club; there was an 


LEIGH GIVES A SURPRISE 229 


especial corner on tlie Ravenel veranda that Betty 
claimed in the summer twilight. 

‘‘Things do move fast when they get a ^gwine’, 
as Maumy says/’ Caroline teased. “Of course 
I will be maid of honor. I hope that I won’t get 
to staring at the memorial window and forget my 
duties. That happened at my sister’s wedding.” 

“You will be maid of honor all right, Caroline.” 

“Soon?” 

The flush traveled. 

“Well — not immediately, my dear. You see 
I have two years more of college and Stan one. 
Then it takes — how many years does it take to 
go through Johns Hopkins, do you know?” 

They were taking an afternoon stroll. Caro- 
line stopped in her tracks. 

“Betty,” she cried, “what do you mean?” 

“I guess I mean. Cal dear, that things ‘do move 
fast’ sometimes, as old Maumy says. I’ve only 
knovm Stan three weeks — but I like him better 
than any man I’ve ever met before — and I have 
met a lot — and he seems to like me. That ’s all 
there is to it — ” 

Caroline stared for a moment in astonishment, 
then she turned. 

“Betty Carew, you come right straight back to 
Major,” she said. “Come along! Don’t you 
ever think that I am going to be responsible for 
a thing like this without some backing. How 
would I ever face Hannah Rosser?” 

The Major was alone. Caroline pushed Betty 
into a chair facing him and sat down on the arm. 


230 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


Major/ ^ she began, while Betty tried to stop 
her, ‘‘Major!’’ 

It was as far as she could get. Betty giggled ; 
the flush grew deeper. 

‘ ‘ Major — I don’t know how to begin — I really 
don’t. I haven’t breath enough. Betty here — 
has got herself engaged to Stan Warren. Imag- 
ine ! and she ’s only known him three weeks — and 
heavens ! we are responsible — or Jimmy is, he 
introduced them. It isn’t that I don’t think Stan 
is adorable; I’ve always been quite crazy about 
him myself, and I know how terribly good-looking 
he is, and what a nice family he comes from, 
but — ” 

She stopped very much out of breath and 
looked down in Betty’s amused eyes. 

“See,” Caroline went on, “Major is aghast, 
too — he can’t even speak.” 

‘ ‘ Then, perhaps I had better, ’ ’ Betty said com- 
placently. She was the least embarrassed of the 
three. 

“It is like this. Doctor Ravenel. I’ve always 
said that when I met a man who measured up to 
my ideals, morally and physically, I would try 
to make him like me. You see,” she hesitated for 
a second, “I am situated rather differently from 
Caroline. I have no home. I have always longed 
for one; more than anything else in the world. 
Fortunately, I don’t have to worry about money 
matters. I shouldn’t have to wait for a man to 
get a start. I should only want to know that he 
was clean and fine and ambitious, as Stan is — 


LEIGH GIVES A SURPRISE 231 


you must admit that — to marry and settle down. 
Oh, Doctor Ravenel, I don’t think you, or Caro- 
line, or any one else, unless they ‘have had my ex- 
perience, can realize how lonely I am. No sisters 
or brothers; no cousins even. I want some one 
that’s my very own. I want my own kiddies and 
my own fireside and my own man. I have had a 
good deal of attention. I know boys. My in- 
heritance (she seldom spoke of her fortune) has 
often made me popular where my real merits — 
if I have any — counted for absolutely nothing. 
But Stan’s different. I don’t believe he knows 
that I have a penny; not unless Caroline has told 
him, and she wouldn’t. He likes me for myself; 
he likes my music; my books; my friends. We 
know how to laugh together; to be sorry at the 
same time. We enjoy the same things. I know 
we can’t help being happy — ” 

She broke off suddenly. 

had intended to tell Caroline about it very 
soon. It has all been so sudden that — that I am 
not quite used to the idea myself yet. But we do 
want to be engaged — Stan and I. He’s going to 
speak with his father and mother, and then he’s 
coming to you ; if I may ask such a privilege. I 
want your advice. I really do; yours and Mrs. 
Ravenel ’s. My guardian won’t care a rap whom 
I marry — if a clean passport can be given. You 
know what I mean. He must have good standing. 
That is all.” 

Doctor Ravenel did not speak for a moment. 
To him there was something infinitely pathetic in 


232 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


the confidence of youth. It expected so much. 
Life, at nineteen, was all promise, romance; the 
future an untried paradise. 

‘T shall be very glad to talk with Stanley,’^ he 
said after a moment, ^^and to help you in this 
matter all I can. I realize, by contrast, if in no 
other way (Betty knew that he was alluding to 
his own happy family life) how deprived you have 
been and, if it so happens that your feeling for 
this young man grows, and his for you, during 
the next few years, I see no reason why you should 
not marry. I hope only that you will not be 
hasty. ’ ’ 

But Caroline was far from satisfied. She 
knew Betty; knew that, while she had settled re- 
markably during the past year, she was still sus- 
ceptible and impulsive. Nell and Estelle had 
watched her for so long, had accomplished such 
wonders with her, that she rather feared their 
judgment of so hasty a courtship. 

As for Stanley, she was quite sincere in saying 
that she liked him. He was a fine type of young 
manhood; tall, slender and dark, an excellent 
background for Betty’s fair loveliness. His 
father. Doctor Warren, was a reputable physician 
and an honored citizen. He was a very good 
friend of her father’s. Often they consulted to- 
gether. It was Doctor Warren’s dream to have 
his son become a physician and follow in his foot- 
steps. 

And there were other matrimonial tangles. 
Caroline went into Leigh’s room one night and 


LEIGH GIVES A SURPRISE 233 


found her sitting by the window in the starlight, 
staring absently at a letter. 

‘^What is it, Leigh she asked, drawing up a 
footstool and laying an atfectionate arm on her 
lap. 

‘‘Nothing, darling — ’’ 

“But there is. I know there is. Tell me. Is 
that a letter from Blair P’ Blair had been East 
all summer settling up his father’s estate. 

“Yes, dear.” 

“When is he coming home*?” 

“Next week.” 

“Really*? How lovely. I shall see him before 
I leave for college.” 

“But he isn’t going to stay, Caroline.” 

“WHiat’s the matter*?” 

“His father’s death will necessitate his living 
East now. You see he must go on with the busi- 
ness. It’s a sort of brokerage — it must be 
handled in New York.” 

“I see. And he wants to take you with him*?” 

“Yes, but I can’t, you see — ” 

“Why can’t you*?” 

“Leave you all here — Mother and Father !” 

“Leigh, do you really care for Blair!” 

“Why, of course — ” 

“Then how can you put anybody before him — 
any of us. He needs you, has needed you for a 
long time. We don’t — oh, Leigh dear, I didn’t 
mean that, please forgive me. We always need 
you, of course, but you see we are grown now. 
You have mothered us all until we ought to be 


234 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


able to fight our battles alone. I really think 
dear, you aren’t fair to Blair. He’s been so pa- 
tient with you ; with all of us in our selfishness. ’ ’ 
Don’t speak that way, darling.” 

‘^But we have been, oh, so selfish! It is time 
for us to help you — and him. What does he 
say, Leigh; tell me, please?” 

Leigh held out the letter and turned her head 
that Caroline might not see the tears in her eyes. 
Caroline turned on the light and read:* 

have made up my mind, Leigh, that if you 
will not come back with me, my love cannot sat- 
isfy you. I am coming West with a prayer in my 
heart. It is that I may bring you back to this 
old home which was once my father’s. It is more 
than comfortable; it is attractive, with its sub- 
urban views and gardens. But I have so often 
told you about it. I can see you moving about 
the place, putting it to rights, turning it into a 
home again. Surely you cannot, will not disap- 
point me.” 

Caroline put the letter back in Leigh’s hand. 

‘‘Surely you cannot — will not. Sister. It 
would be too cruel after these years of patient 
waiting. ’ ’ 

“But Father, dear — ” 

“Major will manage.” 

“And Mother.” 

“Mother wants you to be happy. She has 
Mayre. ’ ’ 

Caroline went straight to the Major’s office. 
He always smoked and read there until late into 


LEIGH GIVES A SURPRISE 235 


the night. When she had put the matter before 
him, she added : 

‘‘I really fear, Major, the matter is up to you. 
Leigh will never leave us unless we make her. I 
know she loves Blair, but she has so long been 
a slave to duty, to our needs and happiness — ” 

The Major did not let her finish. 

‘‘You are right, my child, he said. “Abso- 
lutely. Leigh must not longer delay. She must 
make up her mind one way or the other. I will 
talk with her to-morrow.’’ 

In less than a week preparations began for the 
wedding. Blair arrived, learned that the day had 
been set ; could scarcely believe his good fortune. 
He took Caroline into the drawing-room and 
pulled her down on the old sofa beside him. 

“I have you to thank for this, young lady,” he 
said. “You don’t know just how much I appre- 
ciate it all; confound it, I never was much of a 
speech maker. But if you ever need help, just 
remember you’re going to have a brother-in-law 
who would do anything in reason — or out of it — 
for you.” 

“I know you would, Blair,” Caroline said 
warmly. “But it’s enough just to have you in 
the family, and to know how perfectly adorable 
you will always be to Leigh. She’s a darling — ” 

She had to stop there and leave the room rather 
hastily. 

The preparations for Leigh’s wedding differed 
widely from Alison’s. For two years Leigh had 
been stocking the hope chest that stood at the 


236 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


foot of her bed: a little old-fashioned one that 
had come down from the Kirtley’s in fairly good 
condition. Leigh preferred it to one of the new, 
brass-bound cedar boxes of the prevailing mode. 

Inside it was sweet and dainty. When she 
opened it a faint perfume of orris root escaped; 
a delicate fragrance that belonged to a by-gone 
generation. But Leigh loved old-fashioned things 
— even odors. Her linen smelled of verbena or 
lavender, as her grandmother Kirtley’s always 
had. 

The lingerie was very simple and hand-made. 
There were no modern silks; only the finest Jap- 
anese linens and nainsooks, embroidered and 
monogrammed, threaded with white ribbons; as 
charming and individual as Leigh herself. 

There were tablecloths as fine and perfect as 
looms could produce — Cousin Eliza had seen to 
that — and napkins exquisitely hemmed. There 
were tea cloths and doilies, unusual in texture and 
design — Mayre had spent hours over them — and 
beautiful dresser scarves. Not in quantities; not 
more than Leigh herself or a trusted servant could 
care for. 

She had been reared with a beautiful respect 
for household possessions. She would keep 
house as her mother had; in a simple, dignified 
way, preserving the traditions of her family. 

“Leigh,’’ Caroline said one day, “you aren’t 
going to count your silver and carry it upstairs 
every night, are you!” She probably had in 
mind a vision of her mother laying knives and 


LEIGH GIVES A SURPRISE 237 


forks and spoons with mathematical precision in 
a double-portioned basket after Maumy had 
brought in a basin of soapy water for the eve- 
ning ablution. 

^‘Certainly, darling, and wash it in the dining 
room, as we have always done. Why, Caroline, 
you wouldn’t let solid silver go into the kitchen, 
would you, child?” 

^^I wouldn’t have it in the first place — not if 
it was that much bother ! Oh, Leigh dear, you 
should have gone to college. You need a more 
liberal education. Blair, you’ll have to watch 
her ; she ’ll be polishing up your shirt bosoms and 
embroidering your socks — ” 

‘‘Let me catch her!” 

“She’ll do it behind your back — that’s the 
trouble ! ’ ’ 

There were no parties to wear the bride out; 
no long sieges with dressmakers. Miss Young 
came for a few days, and a few days were given 
over to shopping. There were no wedding in- 
vitations to address; no fret and bother about 
guests. 

“Let us make this wedding as quiet as possible, 
both because of the work and expense,” Leigh 
begged. “We will have a few of our dearest 
friends — that is all, then Blair and I will slip 
quietly away. Please, that is much the best.” 

The days were full, nevertheless. Leigh was 
busiest of all. One morning Caroline found her 
making out little slips of white paper. 

“What are you doing, Leigh?” she asked. 


238 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 

‘ ‘ Jnst leaving some little reminders for you all. 
Things I have always attended to. I thought I 
would pin them around conspicuously, where you 
couldn’t fail to see them.” 

Caroline took them up, one by one, and read : 

‘‘Fishing boots and rod in packing case, north- 
west corner of attic. ’ ’ 

“Plumbers, Smith and Boyle: telephone 803.” 

“Insurance policies and deeds in safety de- 
posite box at bank. Key in second right-hand 
drawer of office desk, labeled.” 

“Bledsoe, furnace man, will be found at 211 
East Huerfano Street. Engage him early.” 

“Extra bedding on high shelf in guest-room 
closet. Furs in box below. ’ ’ 

Those little white slips showed what Leigh had 
meant to her family. 

In turning over the household keys, Leigh put 
one into Caroline’s hand. “This is to the side 
door of Madame Wakefield’s house,” she said. 
“We promised to look in now and then. You 
know everything is there, just as she left it.” 

A little later, Caroline took Betty over. “I 
want you to see an English home,” she said. 

The key ground heavily in the lock, but it finally 
turned. The hall was dark and gloomy. In the 
drawing-room, dust lay thick on the ghostly furni- 
ture. Books and photographs had been locked 
away. Caroline was disappointed. 

“Let us go upstairs and have a look at Charles 
Feveral’s portrait,” she said. 

He was still there, looking down a bit haught- 


LEIGH GIVES A SUEPRISE 239 


ily, as became an English gentleman. Caroline 
turned back the sheet that protected the wide 
sofa and made a place for Betty. ‘‘Let us sit 
here a minute, and I will tell you about him, ’ ’ she 
suggested. 

“When I was a child,’’ she began, “that face 
up there always fascinated me. I suppose it was 
the sad story of his blighted life, and his very 
aristocratic and handsome countenance. He is 
the nephew of Madame Wakefield who lived here. 
He came from England with his young wife, hop- 
ing our Colorado climate would benefit her health, 
but it didn’t — she died. ’ ’ 

She went over his history briefly, and that of 
Madame Wakefield. “Some day, I am going to 
know Charles Feveral. Perhaps when I have 
finished my education and go to England to 
visit. ’ ’ 

“You are really going?” Betty asked with 
interest. 

‘ ‘ Some day, unless Madame returns here, which 
I think is hardly possible. In her last letter to 
Leigh, she spoke as if she might never again leave 
England. You see, she is quite old, and rheuma- 
tism bothers her a great deal. She has not been 
at all well of late. ’ ’ 

The information was followed by a deep sigh. 

“Sometimes I fear I may never see her again. 
It makes me very sad. I am so fond of her. She 
is such a good friend and so merry. We never 
seemed to feel the ditference in our ages. We 
used often to chat for hours together. Especially 


240 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


just before she went away. She told me so much 
of her early life in England; of her first marriage 
— her grief when her husband died. And of her 
second marriage much, much later. I think it 
must have been because she was so very lonely 
that she married Captain Wakefield. He proved 
an ideal companion. 

^ ‘ It was strange, but she told me so much of her 
home ; of the house, the grounds ; her pensioners : 
what she wanted to do for them, I grew so 
familiar wdth it all that I felt I could go to Eng- 
land and pick out ‘The Towers’ — it’s a country 
home, you know — without ever being directed.” 

“I thought English people were always so ret- 
icent,” Betty remarked with interest. 

“Yes; I believe they are. But don’t imagine 
Madame Wakefield was garrulous. Somehow we 
seemed drawn to each other. If she hadn’t been 
English, one would almost have thought her a 
Southerner. She had so many of their traits. 
Her accent was the most beautiful I ever listened 
to — England and Virginia sublimated; if you 
know what I mean. I can’t just express it.” 

It was with regret that Caroline, half an hour 
later, turned the key again in the grating lock. 
The lonely house, cold and barren as it was, still 
held treasured memories. 


CHAPTEE XXI 


A WEDDING 

L EIGtH’S wedding, which occurred on the last 
day of July, was in keeping with the sim- 
plicity of her life and habits. 

A little before five in the afternoon the family 
and a few friends gathered in Grace Church. 
Caroline and Betty had made several pilgrimages 
to near-by canons for Leigh’s favorite flowers 
and greens, and Mayre had spent the morning 
adorning the chancel. 

Never had the church appeared more tranquil, 
more beautiful. Leigh’s gentle spirit seemed to 
hover over it, making it indeed a place of worship. 
There was no pomp, no splendor to detract from 
the sanctity. When the clergyman met Leigh 
and Blair at the altar and said, Dearly beloved, 
we are gathered together here in the sight of God 
to join this man and woman in holy matrimony,” 
the hush along the old pews deepened; the organ 
dropped to a sweeter cadence ; a prayer rose from 
every heart. 

Caroline, her hand resting in her mother’s, 
scarcely breathed. She wondered how Mayre 
could mar the scene by raising her handkerchief 
to her eyes. It was all so perfect, so profound. 


242 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


so mysterious; the joining together of two souls 
for all eternity. She knew that was what it 
meant to Leigh; not a temporal union, not for a 
short earthly span — but forever. She could 
scarcely comprehend it herself, yet her vision 
widened. She seemed to he touching the outer 
realm of a heavenly promise, something dim and 
remote, yet satisfying. 

At the house a merry feast followed. Maumy, 
serving the guests in a snowy cap and apron, was 
proud and important; Mrs. Ravenel handsome 
and serene. 

Caroline saw the Major’s eyes cloud as he 
looked at Leigh across the table and her own 
filled with tears, then, ashamed to evidence the 
least unhappiness on her sister’s wedding day, 
she blinked them back with admirable self-con- 
trol. 

It was only when Leigh came downstairs, pretty 
and trim in her dark traveling suit, that she really 
had to struggle to keep back the tears. To think 
of Leigh going out of the old home — forever — 
was almost more than she could bear. 

They all gathered on the veranda for the last 
farewells. Leigh kissed each one, coming back to 
her mother for a second lingering caress. There 
was a wave; Blair’s handshake and new, big- 
brother kiss, the bang of the taxi door, and they 
were gone. Caroline, unable longer to hide her 
emotion, fled to the tower room. 

The days following were almost busier than the 
preceding ones. It was amazing how many peo- 


A WEDDING 


243 


pie had sent Leigh gifts which had to be packed 
and shipped. There were rooms to straighten 
and clean. 

Betty recalled Caroline’s invitation to her; 

Yon will have to work if you visit us ; we all do.” 

She was quite willing. She went about the 
house with a dustcloth in her hands, a smile on 
her lips. She was very happy. The Doctor’s 
talk with Stanley had been most satisfactory. 
Doctor and Mrs. Warren had called upon her and 
sanctioned their son’s choice. 

Caroline was also more content. She felt that 
Betty was at last safely anchored ; that her future 
was assured. 

Her feeling about Eunice Middleton was less 
comfortable. Sometimes, in fact quite often, she 
wondered if she had not been very rash in making 
her proposition to Eunice. She found her a very 
uncertain quantity, undisciplined, inclined to be 
selfish, and extremely ordinary. Perhaps it was 
the very fact of her being ordinary that strength- 
ened Caroline’s interest. She knew that she 
could help her, hard as the refining process might 
be. 

Eunice blew warm, and then cold, in regard to 
the plan. 

You see I would kind of like to go — and then 
again I wouldn’t,” she said to Caroline, digging 
her brilliant parasol into the sand and turning 
her head with birdlike coquetry. don’t care to 
be bossed. You see I am eighteen and have my 
own money. ’ ’ 


244 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


‘‘Let us forget about the money for a little 
while, Eunice. When you have had it longer and 
find how many things there are more interesting 
and powerful, you won’t put so great a value on 
it. People who have had wealth for a long time 
never speak of it.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because it is rather vulgar.” 

“You think I am vulgar, then?” 

‘ ‘ I think that you are very inexperienced. That 
is why I should like to have you under Mrs. 
Mackintosh’s care for a few years. She would 
smooth down the rough edges. ’ ’ 

Eunice sulked for a minute. 

“Why are you so interested in me?” she asked. 
There was a speculative look in the eyes raised to 
Caroline’s. 

‘ ‘ I was interested in you many years ago — 
wasn’t I? You aren’t forgetting that?” 

Eunice squirmed. “But if I didn’t have 
money, would you be as interested as you are 
now?” 

The question troubled Caroline’s conscience. 
She wondered if she would be. 

“I think that your money will bring you much 
greater happiness if you are taught to use it 
wisely, and to that extent I am truly interested in 
you. You are lonely; you want friends. I can 
help you to find them, the right kind. ’ ’ 

“Well, I’ll think about it. I will write to Uncle 
Jeff and see what he says.” 

“Suppose we both run up to Cripple Creek 


A WEDDING 


245 


some morning and talk the thing over with him/’ 
Caroline said impulsively. 

The suggestion materialized in a visit. Caro- 
line liked Jeft immediately. She knew that his 
gruffness shielded the heart of a child, that under 
the rough exterior there was force and character. 

‘‘Well, now, I don’t know. Sissy,” he said to 
Eunice, “but what this ain’t a pretty fair proposi- 
tion. I remember your Maw telling many times 
of how good these people was to you the time you 
was stranded down at the Springs; specially this 
young woman’s paw. He never sent you no bills. 
Shouldn’t wonder if you hadn’t oughter pay him 
somethin’ now, a nice tidy bit — ” 

“Oh, please don’t mention that,” Caroline 
begged. “I am sure my father never made an 
account against them. ’ ’ 

“Well, Sissy here is able to pay. I reckon they 
ain ’t any girl of her age in these parts has got her 
bank account.” 

“So I understand. It seems that she really 
should be trained to wisely use so much money. 
Don’t you feel there is an obligation, when one 
has been so favored?” 

“Yes, I do, young lady.- I’ve said so to Sissy 
here, more’n onct. But I ain’t go’n let her do 
nothin’ foolish. I’m keepin’ an eye on her.” 

“You might not always be spared to her — ” 

“That’s jest it; that’s the very thing that 
worries me. I’m gettin’ old. Sixty and past. I 
ought to hold out a long time yet; I ain’t changin’ 
m y ways much — ” he waved a toil-roughened 


246 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


hand around the log cabin. ‘T still work. But 
you never kin tell. Sissy paw there, he went 
off in three days. Well as I am this minute 
before the pneumony struck him. Went off 
jest like that.’^ He snapped his hard, cracked 
fingers. 

‘‘How fortunate Eunice was to have you.’’ 

“Yes, I sort a calculate that way, too. I’ve 
played fair with her, and I’d make it pretty darn 
hot for anybody that didn’t.” He gave Caroline 
a searching look. “You say you know this woman 
well, that would take her in ; she ’s 0. K. ? ” 

“Perfectly. Of course, I don’t know whether 
she will consider my plan; but if she consents, I 
assure you that Eunice would be a most fortunate 
girl. ’ ’ 

Jeff scratched his bald head and frowned. 

“I’ll take the matter up with you later,” he 
said, “but I’m right near persuaded it would be 
a good thing all round, considerin’ your refer- 
ences.” 

‘ ‘ Thank you ; then I may hear from you ? ’ ’ 

“ In a few days. ’ ’ 

Later in the week came his letter. It was 
poorly written, poorly spelled, but it was kind and 
businesslike. It said in substance: “I think 
Sissy had better go back to school with you. But 
before you get the old lady (Caroline smiled when 
she thought of Mrs. Mackintosh as an old lady) 
down from her home, you better guarantee her 
something: say two year’s pay for the house and 
her services in running it; wouldn’t be fair not to. 


A WEDDING 


247 


I am sending you a check to cover what I figger 
it ought to he, and hope the plan will work out 
0. K. I liked your looks and I want you to keep 
behind Sissy. She’s spoilt, but she’s got good 
horse sense ’long with it. Your friend, Je:ff 
Taylor.” 

The check took Caroline’s breath away. It was 
enough to keep a girl in college for six years. 

This had all happened before Leigh’s wedding, 
so by the first of August, Caroline had Mrs. 
Mackintosh’s letter. 

‘‘My dear child,” it began. “Margaret and I 
have been thinking over your most surprising 
letter for several days and have about come to the 
conclusion that we cannot afford to let this op- 
portunity go by. It would mean so much to both 
of us. We could be together, and Margaret could 
continue her studies without interruption. Re- 
garding your generous spirit, I have not words to 
speak. More about that when we are again to- 
gether. I hope that I may prove useful to the 
lonely child, and be able to direct her as I would 
wish my own daughter to be directed were the case 
reversed. Margaret and I will go down to the 
city at once and try to find a desirable house with 
attractive surroundings. Mr. Taylor has cer- 
tainly been more than generous, and we ought to 
find something pleasant and homelike. You will 
hear from me very soon. With love from us both, 
dear Caroline, affectionately yours, 

“Sheila Mackintosh.” 


248 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


Came a mad week of shopping. Eunice haunted 
the stores from morning until night, increasing 
her wardrobe with such bizarre and unnecessary 
things that Caroline and Betty both mutinied. 

^‘You never in the world could wear such 
clothes at college,’’ Betty protested. ‘Tt isn’t 
done, you know!” 

‘‘Then why not set the fashion — with all my 
money!” 

They were in an exclusive shop, and Caroline’s 
cheeks reddened. 

“Eunice,” she begged, “please, I have so often 
asked you not to refer to that — ” 

“Why not? What’s money for if it ain’t to 
buy things with. And why shouldn’t I start 
something — ” 

“You will, my dear,” Betty put in mildly. 

“All right; then I’ll take the red satin and the 
pink brocaded velvet and the black lace. ’ ’ 

It was a. perfect orgy of spending. 

“I am afraid. Cal dear, you’ve a white elephant 
on your hands,” Betty said, when they left 
Eunice at the hotel. “Whatever will you do with 
her?” 

“I don’t know,” Caroline said helplessly. “I 
am relying a good deal on Mrs. Mackintosh. 
She’s so wise. Surely she will find a way. But 
sometimes I wonder if I am being quite fair to 
her — if Margaret’s education is worth it?” 

There was but little time for Jimmy during that 
last week. One day Caroline, calling with Mrs. 
Ludlow, ran in upon him at his office. She had 


A WEDDING 


249 


never seen him at work before and tbe sight of 
him, bent over a stack of white papers, gave her 
a new thrill. 

‘‘Hello,’’ he said, jumping up and making a 
dive for the coat he had doffed, “how nice! To 
whom am I indebted for this honor?” 

“Your mother,” Caroline admitted and his 
smile faded a trifle. 

“Anyway, you are most welcome.” 

He took them through the rooms. In one a 
stenographer was hard at work, in another several 
clients waited. 

“We mustn’t stop you,” Caroline said, edging 
towards the door. “Come and see me. You 
know the end of my vacation is drawing near — I 
go next Friday.” 

He did run out for a call the night before Caro- 
line left for college, but the house was full of 
young people and he remained only a little while. 

The friendship between them, sane, wholesome 
and normal, had grown with the summer; they 
both felt that it had. Something in the pressure 
of Jimmy’s warm handshake in parting, in his 
hearty, “Well, the best of luck to you,” said more 
than the words. 

Caroline’s eyes, lifted to his in a brief fare- 
well, held an expression that Jimmy cherished in 
his heart for many moons. 


CHAPTEE XXII 


CARES AND RESPONSIBILITIES 

C AEOLINE always recalled her Sophomore 
year in college as the most trying of the four. 
Life at the sorority house was still gay and inter- 
esting. Especially at the rushing season. This 
festivity Caroline experienced from the inside, 
for the first time. 

She could not say that she altogether enjoyed 
it. It was a strenuous period, those first seven 
days; pleasurable in a way, but nerve- straining 
and wearing; quite as hard on dispositions as 
mid-term examinations. 

To Caroline, with her vivid imagination, it was 
like witnessing an interesting drama, the parts 
being taken by Beauty, Gaiety, Expectancy, Jeal- 
ousy, Pride — sometimes with Malice for the vil- 
lain. There were long meetings in which girls 
were discussed from the standpoint of personal 
attraction to ability and popularity. 

Often during those days she heard, ^^Oh, we 
must get her — she will help the house : good 
family, brains, standing.’’ There was a group — 
Nell Neally, Hannah Rosser, Isabel Schrader, 
Fanchon Donaldson — : older girls who tried to 


CARES AND RESPONSIBILITIES 251 

keep the reins steady, but their votes were not in 
the majority. 

Sometimes at these discussions Caroline won- 
dered if she would have had the temerity to let 
her name go up for membership if she had known 
the methods of procedure. For, upon entering 
the august body, one went like Everyman into the 
grave, accompanied by Good-Deeds — and a great 
many bad ones. 

But if on occasions she witnessed strife and 
petty jealousy, she also beheld loyalty and for- 
bearance. She saw weak girls influenced by 
stronger; ideals raised, standards valued. 

Sometimes she shrank back into a corner of the 
beautiful chapter room and watched the pageant 
pass. Once she roused to ask : 

‘‘But do we never ask girls for what we could 
do for 

It was a mild bomb. Beauty bristled; Pride 
retaliated with, ‘ ‘ Oh, Caroline, you are too demo- 
cratic for this age;’’ Jealousy flung, “We 
wouldn’t build up our house very fast that way — 
we must have representative girls.” 

Hannah Rosser said, “I have often had Caro- 
line’s feeling: that we would do well to go in the 
highways and select girls of worth — not of social 
standing — ” but her argument (she never finished 
it) was drowned in a chorus of, “Heavens, 
Hannah, as if anybody had time or opportunity 
on a campus as large as this !” 

Caroline had other problems. Betty was right. 
Eunice was proving a white elephant. 


252 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


Mrs. Mackintosh had been successful in finding 
a desirable house in an excellent location. An old 
friend of her husband’s was taking his family 
East for two years, and was, naturally, delighted 
to find so reliable a tenant for his home. The 
house stood on a prominence that overlooked the 
bay. It was some distance from the campus, 
which was rather an advantage, since Eunice in- 
sisted upon keeping her own car. She was in- 
clined to be generous with it and took Margaret 
with her to college each morning. 

It was not a large house, but well arranged and 
amply commodious. The first floor consisted of 
a pleasant living room with an open fireplace; a 
smaller library well stocked with books; dining 
room and servants’ quarters. The second floor 
was attractive and convenient. There were four 
bedchambers. The one at the front, as well as 
the one at the back, extended across the width of 
the house. One gave a magnificent view of the 
bay, the other of the Berkeley hills. 

Eunice, probably because the hills reminded her 
of her mountain home, chose the back, giving 
Margaret the front. They were equally pleasant, 
charmingly furnished and comfortable. Mrs. 
Mackintosh took a smaller chamber on the same 
floor and the other was known from the first as 
Caroline ’s. 

Occasionally on< week-ends Caroline occupied 
it, to the delight of the entire family. There were 
times when she made a hurried visit to it; times 
when Mrs. Mackintosh called her, saying, ‘‘If it 


CARES AND RESPONSIBILITIES 253 

is possible, will you come over, dear, I must talk 
with you. ’ ’ 

Caroline knew what that call meant: Eunice 
was obstreperous; sulky or defiant. Sometimes 
she wondered why she had been so rash in her in- 
vitation to Eunice ; why the Major had permitted 
her to hang such a millstone about her neck. She 
had occasion to recall his ‘ ‘ Better think this thing 
over pretty carefully, Caroline; you are taking 
great responsibility upon yourself.’^ 

But, aa usual, she had been determined. Her 
anxiety to help Margaret and her still greater de- 
sire to be of service in a case of need acting as a 
goad. 

One of the greatest problems was Eunice’s 
clothes. Mercy! Caroline, who was that freak 
I saw you with to-day?” sometimes greeted her 
at lunch or dinner. 

Or, ‘‘Anybody know that Middleton girl in 
Econ 19 A? They ought to get her in the circus 
this year.” 

“Friend of yours, isn’t she, Caroline?” some 
one would invariably ask and Caroline would an- 
swer with cheeks aflame : 

“She’s an unfortunate little girl with more 
money than is good for her — and no father or 
mother! Please be charitable towards her. I 
think if you only understood, girls — ” 

A hush would die along the table to be broken 
with: 

“Caroline, you are the best sport on the 
campus! Let anybody say a word to me — ” 


254 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


And the girl would roll up her sleeve and flourish 
her fork belligerently. 

But the notoriety galled, nevertheless. 

Sometimes there would be long talks in the wide 
bedroom with its pretty furniture and cretonne 
hangings. Caroline would beg and plead, Eunice 
would whine and cry — or worse still, become 
defiant. 

‘^Who do you think you areT’ she would cry 
in a rage, ‘‘to come bossing me. Ifll wear what 
I please and go where I please! I’m eighteen, 
ain’t I? I’ve got my own money!” 

Caroline’s tears sometimes acted as a solvent 
for those terrible moods. Once she was forced 
to say, “You may give me back the little pearl 
ring, I think, Eunice. You do not appreciate my 
friendship — friendship I gave to you when you 
were a tiny girl. Hand it to me, please. ’ ’ 

Eunice’s eyes widened, tears rushed to 
them. 

“Oh, please,” she cried, her voice dropping to 
a frightened whisper, “don’t take it away; you’ll 
hoodoo me. That’s my mascot!” 

It was the plea of the superstitious and 
ignorant. 

Margaret was absolutely helpless with her. 
Eunice’s type was beyond her understanding. 
She was not drawn to her, yet her patience was 
marvelous. There was a splendid loyalty be- 
hind her aversion. 

“The situation seems impossible,” she said 
once to her mother, “but we must see the two 


CARES AND RESPONSIBILITIES 255 

years through. We cannot wave a white feather 
in the face of Caroline’s generosity.” 

And so efforts were redoubled; more charity 
exercised. 

It was a happy day for Caroline when she found 
that Eunice had been called before a higher trib- 
unal and her unhappy combination of color and 
style prohibited. An authoritative word had 
gone forth. She was given a choice between ap- 
propriate clothes and an exit from college. 

It was during those days that Caroline’s ab- 
horrence for money grew. She hated its cheap- 
ness, its vulgarity. Eunice, ill-content and un- 
able to appreciate the beauty of her surroundings, 
constantly shopped for the house. She added 
tawdry curtains to her room, glaring Chinese bric- 
a-brac atrocious in color and design; dragons, 
vases and tea sets ; twisted serpentine chairs and 
teakwood tables. 

But when she attacked the drawing-room, Mrs. 
Mackintosh’s Irish foot came down with force. 

^‘Not here, my child,” she said authoritatively. 
^‘You may do as you like in your room, but this 
house belongs to me. You are my guest.” 

‘‘My money’s paying for it.” 

“Your money is paying for value received,” 
Mrs. Mackintosh answered. “Remember that.” 
Only her gentle dignity kept her from adding, 
“And what you are getting is very cheap at the 
price. ’ ’ 

There was one never forgettable afternoon when 
Caroline was hurriedly called to the house. She 


256 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


found Eunice with her trunks strapped and 
packed. She was going home. 

The trouble had arisen over a trivial matter. 
Eunice had wanted to entertain at a mid-week 
frolic some of the young people she had met. 
She had engaged music and bought flowers, in 
fact prepared for a rather elaborate evening ^s 
entertainment, without asking any one’s consent. 

Margaret objected. ‘^Have you spoken with 
Caroline about it?” she asked. 

Eunice had not. 

‘^But you know, Eunice, that it is not customary 
to entertain in mid-week. You are keeping other 
young people from their studies, to say nothing 
of your own loss of sleep and time.” 

‘^Lots of people give parties during the 
week — ” 

‘‘But I do not know these friends — ” 

“You don’t have to know them. I guess I can 
pick out the people I like without having them 
looked over.” 

When Mrs. Mackintosh held to her daughter’s 
decision, Eunice packed her trunk, dismantled her 
room, and prepared to leave. 

Caroline arrived as Eunice was putting on her 
hat and coat, heard the story, and taking Eunice 
into the guest room, locked the door. 

Np one knew just what happened behind that 
closed door — least of all Caroline. She emerged 
two hours later, rather dazed herself, but with 
Eunice’s hand in hers. 

“Eunice wants to ask your pardon, Mrs. Mack- 


CARES AND RESPONSIBILITIES 257 


intosli,’’ she said, leading the refractory girl into 
her presence. ‘^She didn’t quite understand, I 
think, but after this she will consult you in regard 
to her plans.” 

Followed a long letter to Jeff Taylor, asking 
for a decrease in Eunice’s allowance. He was 
still her guardian. In Colorado, fortunately, a 
girl must reach twenty-one to manage her own 
property. 

Caroline loved the hearty scrawl that brought 
back cheering news : 

have been thinking for a long time that I wasn’t 
doing right by Sissy, to let her have her own way, and 
to-day I consulted a lawyer about it. Hereafter, she will 
get just what any other girl in her position would have 
for comfort and decency. No more. I reckon it’s a 
mighty good thing that she’s got a girl like you behind 
her, for she was getting pretty heady before she left here. 
I don’t want her to get boy-struck, neither. Ain’t no 
girl got man-sense till she gets past twenty — consider- 
able past. I thank you for your interest in Sissy, and 
you tell her for me that she ’s got to get down to business 
or I ’ll be taking a trip out there myself. Though I don ’t 
know as that would scare her much. She always could 
wrap me round her little finger. I’m darned glad she’s 
got somebody she can’t wheedle. Your friend, Jeff 
Taylor. ’ ’ 

The months began to fly by. Christmas was 
spent with Mrs. Mackintosh, a very happy Christ- 
mas despite occasional homesick pangs. Of 
course there were the usual letters. Leigh were 


253 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 

invariably entertaining. She was delighted with 
her home; a place just old-fashioned enough to 
coincide with her idea of dignity and respectabil- 
ity. It would have been impossible to imagine 
Leigh in a strictly modem house. She had ac- 
cepted Blair’s mother’s household gods with 
thankfulness and appreciation. They were very 
like the things she had been reared with, a fact 
that prevented longing and homesickness. She 
was making friends rapidly ; was interested in the 
little suburban church and in the community. 
She rather liked the East, though of course it was 
very different from the South or West. Alison 
had been in New York; more beautiful than ever; 
very stunning in her imported frocks and hats. 
Blair was well, the most adoring — and adored 
husband in all the world. She herself was 
stronger and freer from pain than ever before. 

It was the word from home that depressed 
Caroline: ‘‘The house seems so still sometimes,” 
Mrs. Raven el wrote, “although Mayre and I are 
so much company for each other. Your father 
continues well, but I fear is somewhat hampered 
in his work by darling Leigh’s absence, though 
he never complains. Maumy is getting quite 
feeble, cannot stand hard work any more. A new 
cook has taken her place for a while, a fact that 
distresses her. We should be glad to send her 
home for her declining days, but she will not con- 
sent to a separation from us.” 

Often Caroline’s thoughts dwelt upon the old 
home. She could fancy how empty it must seem 


CARES AND RESPONSIBILITIES 259 


with the family so depleted. She could scarcely 
imagine the stately rooms without Leigh’s sunny 
presence. She could picture the Major, jogging 
along country roads alone in all kinds of weather 
— sometimes it seemed that she must fly to him — 
Mayre’s desolation (Mayre was a lonely little 
creature at best) and her mother. 

The thought of her mother always brought a 
wave of tenderness. How gentle she had always 
been. How poised and dignified. Never had 
she quarreled or bickered with her children. 
Never had she raised her voice in angry remon- 
strance. 

If the thought ever crossed Caroline’s mind 
that her mother had been indolent and self-cen- 
tered, it was countered with another ; she had 
preserved the sanctity, the dignity and the beauty 
of the home. The Major had disciplined, scolded, 
punished if need be — but she had held up ideals, 
traditions ; instilled love and respect. Always 
her children would rise up and call her blessed, 
would remember her with beautiful affection. 

And as Caroline grew older and entered other 
homes, she marveled more and more at the sim- 
plicity of her own. It was a place of rest and 
peace and growth. If there were difficulties, each 
solved, or tried to solve, his own. Even in the 
days of her father’s illness, gray, somber days 
for her mother, there was no complaining, no 
borrowing of trouble ; only childlike trust and pa- 
tient endurance. 

Often, too, she recalled the contentment that 


260 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


had marked the home life. There was no striving 
for effect; no running after false gods; no greed 
or avarice. There was monotony sometimes — 
and longing, tempered with thanksgiving. 

Perhaps Caroline thought a great deal about it 
all because of the changes that were so rapidly 
coming over the world. In Europe a great war 
was raging; a war that threatened her own be- 
loved land. People were restless, apprehensive. 
Jimmy wrote: 

‘‘We are going to be in this thing sooner than 
we think. I feel that I should be there now, 
helping. ’ ’ 

Sometimes on the way home from the library 
at night, Biddy would voice his sentiments. “I 
canT stand it much longer, Caroline; this thing 
makes my blood boil. France needs us — sooner 
or later I’m going to bolt.” 

“What would you do, Biddy?” she would in- 
quire with a pounding heart. Biddy’s friendship 
was very dear to her. 

“There isn’t very much that I don’t know 
about an automobile, thanks to Emma’s disposi- 
tion,” he would answer, with his boyish laugh. 
“I could handle a truck all right, or ‘chauf’ a 
general. ’ ’ 

And yet the weeks went on, happy and care- 
free, except for the still-dreaded mid-term exams. 
There was scarcely a ripple of excitement on the 
day’s calm. At week-ends there were the parties. 
Caroline’s scrap book began to bulge with dance 
programs and favors: her memorabilia (a blank 


CARES AND RESPONSIBILITIES 261 

account book pressed into service) was filled with 
cartoons, clippings and kodaks. 

The parties became never-to-be-forgotten mem- 
ories: nights when the larger fraternities kept 
open house; when verandas and lawns were bril- 
liantly strung with Chinese lanterns, and campus 
orchestras vied with each other in rollicking 
tunes. Times when one donned one^s prettiest 
frock and went with one’s nicest man from house 
to house, lingering for a dance or two, and then 
sauntering on to the next: Nickel Crawls, those 
dances were called, and the proceeds went for 
campus activities. There were the Formals, 
given by fraternities and sororities: elaborate 
functions. There were strolls up to the big 
‘ ^ C ” on the hill where one caught the wide sweep 
of the bay in the moonlight — ^the glimmering 
waters of the Golden Gate. There was the annual 
college circus — and the pyjamareno parade. 

And there were others besides Biddy seeking 
Caroline’s favor. He found that he must ask for 
dates early, to be sure of them. 

Men were catalogued in her mind as Phi Kap- 
pas, D IJs, Kappa Sigmas, Alpha Belts, etc. She 
accepted their invitations with all the pleasure and 
anticipation of youth; sometimes she went over 
to the city across the bay to dance with a crowd 
at one of the hotels, scurrying to catch the mid- 
night boat home ; flying through the hushed, dimly 
lighted streets on the noisy ferry cars, back to 
the sorority house. 

And then, one day in the midst of fun and fes- 


262 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


tivity, came a note from Jimmy, brief and buoy- 
ant. ‘‘Leaving to-morrow for the other side,^^ 
it said. “Can’t stand it any longer. Don’t 
worry about me (perhaps I have nerve to think 
you will) and buck up mother when you can. She 
enjoys your letters. This war is going to be 
harder on mothers than on us. I shall be back 
for our tryst in August. Don’t forget. This 
beastly slaughter isn’t going to last forever.” 

For a week she went about in a daze. She 
spoke to Biddy of Jimmy’s going to war. He 
stopped — they were, as usual, walking home from 
the library ; it was rather a fixed habit — and 
looked down at her. ‘ ‘ That ’s the stuff ! ” he said. 
“That’s what every red-blooded American ought 
to do. I congratulate you on having such a 
friend.” 

And then April came, April with its warm 
spring breath and blossoming flowers. On the 
hills poppies lifted their yellow heads; the euca- 
lyptus, rejuvenated, sent forth gray-green shoots 
that looked like dull shimmering satin in the sun- 
shine. At the week-end, girls coming home from 
the country brought armfuls of wild lilac and 
Juda buds. Nature smiled in the face of a dis- 
traught and trembling nation. The first days of 
the week passed with its scholastic grind, its 
sorority functions, its city and country dances. 

Then came the sixth! tragic and memorable 
day! 

Caroline was coming out from her English class 
when she heard the newsboy’s shrilling cry: 


CARES AND RESPONSIBILITIES 263 


‘‘War! War! War! America enters the Conflict!’’ 

It struck at her, beat in upon her sensitive soul 
with the blow of an anvil. War! Hideous and 
terrible — brutal beyond description. It meant 
— what did it mean ! Try as she would, her dis- 
turbed brain could not fathom its dire possibil- 
ities. 

On the campus excited groups talked and ges- 
ticulated. Men passed her with set, determined 
faces. Some laughed; some were strangely, 
grimly silent. Girls, those who had brothers and 
sweethearts, wept openly. 

At the house she found Betty huddled on her 
bed, her face white, her eyes staring wildly. 

“Stan,” she cried, “he’ll have to go! He’s 
been wanting to, for a month or more, but I 
begged him not to — ” 

“Oh, no, Betty, you didn’t do that!” 

The girl turned in a fury. “Don’t preach pa- 
triotism to me — you who have father, mother, 
sisters! Stan’s my all!^^ 

The week dragged itself to an end. College 
was demoralized. Men were mustered into serv- 
ice. Dances ceased. The world, that had been 
so gay, so happy and self-sufficient, turned an- 
other side; a horrible, sinister, ghastly side, too 
terrible to face. 

Early in May, Caroline went home, accompanied 
by Betty and Eunice. Mrs. Mackintosh and Mar- 
garet returned to the Lodge. 

The summer passed in a maze of labor and anx- 
iety. Mrs. Ravenel’s long drawing-room became 


264 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


a workshop. Furniture was covered and stored ; 
long tables set up. Surgical dressings were 
turned out in surprising c[uantities. Mrs. Ra- 
venel and Mayre stopped whipping lace and em- 
broidering linen; they rolled bandages — ^made 
pneumonia jackets. Often the doctor marveled 
at his wife’s strength and devotion to the cause. 
Sometimes he tried to check her, but she answered, 
‘‘My father, Captain Kirtley, once gave to the 
limit of his endurance for his country — I can do 
no less.” 

Betty drooped pitifully. Stanley had answered 
his country’s call with the Yale unit. He had 
not sailed, but was still in the East, awaiting 
orders. 

But Eunice Middleton blossomed under stress. 
She begged to be near Caroline, and Mrs. Ravenel 
gave her Leigh’s room. She was still somewhat 
bizarre and crude; she still had moods and flights 
of temper, but on the whole, she was improved. 
Mrs. Ravenel and Mayre noticed it. “At least 
she doesn’t say ‘ain’t’ and she combs her hair de- 
cently,” Caroline agreed hopefully. 

Her allowance had been increased for war time 
needs, and she gave generously. She had not 
been trained to use her hands. She was awkward 
and slovenly with her bandages, but she ran er- 
rands, took telephone calls; helped Doctor Ra- 
venel in the office, went with him on long profes- 
sional visits. 

Those rides meant greater growth of character 
than she herself imagined. There were talks, pre- 


CARES AND RESPONSIBILITIES 265 

sumably casual, but with definite purpose on the 
Major’s part. 

Mrs. Ludlow was a constant help in the recon- 
structed drawing-room. She, too, worked early 
and late. She looked careworn, but her courage 
was inspiring. 

In August the girls returned to college. The 
house on the hill was reopened. Eunice was back 
in her old quarters, rather glad, too, on the whole. 
She had grown very fond of Mrs. Mackintosh. 
Margaret was still alien. They never touched, 
though their relationship in the house was amic- 
able enough. Margaret passed her in the halls 
with a smile, sometimes venturing, ‘‘How is col- 
lege this semester!’^ Or, at table, “Mother says 
you are bringing up your grades. Fine! Keep 
the good work up.” 

But it was not the old campus. It was deserted, 
broken — apprehensive. In his opening speech to 
the students, the president looked over the Greek 
theater wistfully. “We have turned to bright 
colors,” he said, noting the girls’ brilliant sweat- 
ers — “pinks and blues, scarlet — ” 

He stopped there, missing the boys’ somber 
tweeds that had so long flanked the worn stone 
steps. There was a great void; broken ranks on 
every side. 

Caroline delved into her studies with a new 
zest. Scholastic requirements had been raised. 
Junior certificates held in abeyance. That meant 
that she could choose her course; drop tiresome 
mathematics and stupid sciences; redouble on 


266 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


English and languages, turn to the cultural, and 
still graduate. 

For her it was a wonderful and unexpected op- 
portunity. She delved into the poets, she revelled 
in contemporary novels, strengthened her founda- 
tion in the classics. She awakened intellectually. 
Bit by bit her stories, scraps of verse, occasional 
editorials, appeared in the college paper. Finally 
she was added to the staff. 

She kept her goal clearly in sight. She made 
plots for plays; dashed off scenarios at white 
heat; listed catching titles and incidents. Her 
bottom drawer became an olla podrida. In it 
were crammed newspaper clippings, social hap- 
penings, magazine articles. She was laying the 
cornerstone of her career. 

For recreation she knitted; and she scrimped 
and saved. She made one dollar do the work 
of two. 

Occasionally the old spirit of adventure at- 
tacked her. Often she was the ringleader in so- 
rority pranks. Her devil sprang from his hidden 
lair and confronted her unaware. At times she 
was mischievous, daring, almost reckless. Few 
guessed how serious she was at heart. She had 
the faculty of shutting the world out of her hopes 
and despairs. 

Betty drooped and faded under the burden. 
Stanley had gone across ; his regiment, ‘ ‘ The Mo- 
bile Hospital Unit’’ was stationed at Limoges. 

Jimmy’s letters were few and far between. He 
was nearing the front. Captain, now, in his regi- 


CARES AND RESPONSIBILITIES 267 


ment. And Biddy Webster, true to bis own pre- 
diction, was ^‘cbauffing’’ a French general. 

It is strange how human nature asserts itself 
at critical moments. Leigh wrote, with true 
Southern spirit, that they ) were distressed at 
Blair’s being rejected for army service because 
of an old heart trouble. Alison, that the war was 
getting on her nerves. She really couldn’t stand 
it much longer; life* was so melancholy and dull, 
though she really should not complain. Tevis’s 
skill as a technical engineer was still detaining him 
in Washington at a dollar a year. 

Autumn came, and with it the armistice. 
Christmas passed and spring followed. The boys 
were beginning to come home — the fortunate 
ones. Jimmy was in a Belgian hospital slowly 
recovering from a gas attack — it would be 
months before he saw Colorado again. Biddy 
was returning, unscathed. Stanley had seen hard 
service, but likewise had been spared. Alfred 
Peveral was not so fortunate. He had made the 
supreme sacrifice late in the summer. 

And so Caroline’s Junior year drew to a close, 
thanksgiving commingling with heartache. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


A SUMMER BY THE SEA 

P LANS for summer vacation, at almost the last 
moment, took an unexpected turn. The 
Major wrote : 

‘‘Your mother, worn with war activities, is very 
much in need of a change. We have about de- 
cided to rent the house (houses could always he 
advantageously rented in the famous health re- 
sort) and^'oin you for a couple of months in Cali- 
fornia. I am, however, a little afraid of the 
northern fogs and winds, and will try the south- 
ern part of the State. ’ ^ 

A few weeks later the family was comfortably 
located at a quiet beach. Mrs. Mackintosh, as 
usual, returned to the Lodge. She very generous- 
ly asked Eunice to go with her, but Eunice clung 
to Caroline. 

“If only I may be near you,” she begged; 
“there must be a good hotel at the beach.” 

But Caroline was not yet ready to place Eunice 
in a hotel, and rather insisted upon her settling 
with her. 

The plan proved satisfactory in every way. 
Late in June the family was surprised by a brief 


A SUMMER BY THE SEA 269 


visit from Leigh and Blair. Blair, like all men 
of the period, was worn and thin. He needed the 
bracing breezes of the Pacific to tone him up, 
make him fit for the autumn ^s work. 

It was a happy, reunited family. Doctor 
Ravenel had been fortunate enough to secure a 
desirable cottage, plain but commodious, so they 
were not cramped for room. Maumy had been 
left behind, too feeble to stand the long journey. 
She was comfortably housed in the ‘‘Bap’tis’’ 
minister’s home, as content as she could be any- 
where away from her ^‘fam’bly.” 

With three strong, able-bodied young women in 
the family, the services of a cook were dispensed 
with. Caroline and Eunice prepared breakfast 
and lunch. Dinner was procured at a near-by 
boarding house. 

It proved to be the happiest summer imagin- 
able. During Leigh’s stay, there were long visits 
on the beach, where the girls sat with Mrs. 
Ravenel, idly chatting, not so much as a knitting 
needle in hand. Ten o ’clock in the morning found 
them all under a brilliant umbrella on the white 
sand, a little apart from the crowd. The girls 
learned to swim in the foaming surf. Eunice be- 
came expert in a short time, and Caroline also 
loved the frolic. 

Leigh had greatly improved in the short year 
of her married life. She looked stronger. The 
weak spine that had always been a source of 
heartache to her family had greatly improved. 
Blair was a devoted and considerate husband. 


270 CAROLIlSrE AT COLLEGE 


Doctor and Mrs. Ravenel often gazed upon them 
with joy and thanksgiving. It seemed an ideal 
match. 

Mayre sketched to her hearths content. Some 
of her water colors attracted attention, and, al- 
most before she was aware of the fact, a market 
was provided. Tourists stopped at the cottage 
weekly, then daily, for her bits of the sea, caught 
in its varying moods. Before the summer was 
over, her small bank had been discarded and a 
savings account opened. 

Caroline and her father took long walks along 
the sandy strip of beach, pausing to watch the sea 
change from blue to green, ruffle its white-capped 
waves for a storm, or glimmer peacefully in the 
glow of the setting sun. Sometimes they carried 
a bit of lunch and a book. Caroline read to him ; 
explaining passages from poems she had labored 
over : Browning, Tennyson and Keats. They 
talked of the masters, and the Major renewed his 
own college days through her experiences. And 
he began to gain : his sunken cheeks took on a new 
roundness, his shoulders lifted. Day by day he 
was storing strength for duties that lay ahead. 

A week before Leigh’s departure another guest 
came. He walked in quite unceremoniously one 
morning, hanging his cap and summer overcoat 
on the peg in the rustic hall, where they remained, 
except at intervals, for some time. It was Jeff 
Taylor. 

‘H’d a heap rather stay here than over at that 
tony hotel,” he said wistfully, ‘^if you could put 


A SUMMER BY THE SEA 271 


me up. I got kind of homesick for Sissy. First 
time I been separated from her fer so long, since 
she was that high.’’ He measured a short dis- 
tance from the floor. 

So Jeft was comfortably installed in a small 
guest room, much to his delight. 

“I’m used to these here cabins,” he said, ap- 
praising the redwood walls, bare of plaster. 
“And that’s a good fireplace. I’ll cut you up 
some logs; nights is pretty chilly here with that 
old ocean a cavortin’ round.” 

Indeed, he proved an ideal guest in more ways 
than one. He did provide wood; not only wood, 
but, much to the family’s amazement, a touring 
car, so that the wonders of the country might be 
explored. He taught Caroline how to cook a 
steak; broil bacon; make flapjacks. Often he car- 
ried the family to the city ten miles away for an 
evening’s entertainment. In the bosom of the 
family he became “Mr. Croesus”, but the title 
was lovingly bestowed. 

His roughness was often embarrassing to 
Eunice. It is difficult to measure progress day 
by day, but looking back, estimating it by months, 
results are often surprising. Eunice had really 
grown, culturally, at least. Her development 
loomed large against the background of Uncle 
Jeff’s crudities. 

“I do wish he would use his fork more,” she 
said once in apology to Leigh. It was so easy 
to confide one’s annoyances to Leigh. They were 
walking along the sandy beach, as they did occa- 


272 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


sionally. ‘T’m just mortified to death when he 
tries to gather up peas on his knife. IVs so silly. 
He must know they will roll off. And his gram- 
mar — it just kills me to have him get to telling 
one of his stories with: ^An’ then I come along, 
an’ when we had went’ — And if he just wouldn’t 
say ‘gosh’ and ‘gol darn.’ I think I will tell 
him. ’ ’ 

“Jeff is an old man, dear,” Leigh comforted, 
“and he is among friends. No one is criticizing 
him. We must remember the life he has led, free 
and beautiful up in the hills, away from conven- 
tions. He can teach us many things, even though 
he does not speak our English. Besides, life is 
behind him now. It doesn’t matter. You must 
not depress him with useless arguments.” 

“I know,” Eunice considered, appeased by 
Leigh’s wisdom, “and he is so kind. I don’t sup- 
pose any one will ever know what he has done for 
the poor people up at the ‘ Creek. ’ That time we 
went up there from the Springs — I was so little, 
but I remember — when he took us in his cabin 
and gave us food and shelter, father was quite 
‘down and out’, as they say up there. He taught 
me to call him Uncle Jeff; that’s what every one 
calls him up there. They just simply adore him. 
Why, there are dozens of people he helps ; people 
who have grown discouraged. Mining looks so 
simple. You only hear of those who are success- 
ful. Hundreds and hundreds lose all they ever 
possessed — most of them do, in fact. Jeff has a 
sort of religion all his own. He never goes to 


A SUMMER BY THE SEA 273 

church. He just goes way off in the canon some- 
times on Sunday, to the highest place he can find, 
and has a little service of his own. I remember 
his telling mother about it once — and she cried. 
I can see her now, turning her back on him and 
wiping her eyes on the corner of her gingham 
apron. He’s really quite a wonderful man in his 
way. 

There was Polly Mason: a girl who was a 
little wild. Her parents had come up there to 
try their fortunes, as mine had. We all lived up 
on the side of the mountain — near the ‘Home- 
stake.’ We could look down on the lights twink- 
ling in the town below; they looked like fairy can- 
dles blinking and shining. Sometimes we could 
hear music, if the wind was right — music from 
places that we had never seen. Polly was dread- 
fully lonesome. She loved pretty things; nice 
ribbons to wear to school and red frocks such as 
they wore in the camp. But she couldn’t have 
them. Her people, nice folks, too, had barely 
enough to eat. Her father was sinking a shaft 
not far away, hoping against hope that he would 
strike pay dirt, which Jeff felt sure he wouldn’t. 
Well, anyway, Polly got to strolling down the hill, 
nearer the music. Her mother got to worrying. 
Jeff saw the trouble. He went down to the 
Springs and bought her the prettiest outfit he 
could find, and sent her back to an aunt in the 
East until she got more sense. A mining camp 
is a very wicked place, you know. Well — that’s 
just one thing. I could tell you dozens!” 


274 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 

Sometimes as they cleared the table after break- 
fast or lunch, Eunice told Caroline more of her 
own history. Her people had migrated from 
somewhere along the southern border of Illinois. 
They were plain, honest people, but her father al- 
ways had the wanderlust. He had carried her 
mother all over the country, seeking his fortune, 
sure that it was waiting for him somewhere. 

Caroline gathered that she had been above him 
in station. ‘‘Mother always liked things nice,’^ 
Eunice would add; “she was naturally dainty. 
She said her mother was, before her. She always 
talked about what we would do when we struck 
it. I was to be educated, to have a lovely home 
and the right kind of friends — ” 

She stopped. 

“Then just as it was all in sight, she had to 
go. WasnT it strange? IsnT life the funniest, 
anyway ? ^ ^ 

Caroline often wondered just what etfect Jeff’s 
roughness had on her mother’s sensitive nature. 
Mrs. Ravenel was the quintessence of refinement. 
But if she felt antagonism, she never showed it. 
She exchanged few words with her chance guest ; 
their worlds did not meet, but she never gave the 
impression of snobbishness: only the parvenu re- 
sorts to that. The West — and the war, had 
taught her many things. They had broken 
barriers. 

Sometimes under the roof of the little half- 
story bedroom where Caroline and Mayre slept, 
they visited. Gradually Caroline found that 


A SUMMER BY THE SEA 275 


Mayre liad plans and ambitions; sbe longed for 
greater breadth and experience in art. 

‘‘You remember,’’ Mayre said, “how we used 
to talk when we were children, about what we 
would do when Great-aunt Caroline died and left 
us her fortune: I was to go abroad — even in 
those days — ” 

“And I was to have a circus — Well, sometimes 
I think I didn’t altogether miss my aim — those 
first few months with Eunice. She was wild 
enough to give me all the thrills I craved. ’ ’ 

“But it is really wonderful how she’s coming 
out. I noticed her at dinner to-night. She is 
growing quite pretty. And isn’t it marvelous 
how she has veered from her gorgeous plumage 
to the most severe costumes. She wears but one 
ring now — the little pearl — ” 

“Merely a fad, my dear,” Caroline yawned, 
sleepily. “At present her favorite actress 
eschews all jewels and tailors her clothes to a 
fare-ye-well. But Sissy is coming along, no doubt 
about it. When Mrs. Mackintosh gets through 
with her — she’ll be the real thing. Just wait.” 

It was during those happy summer days that 
Caroline received one of Madame Wakefield’s 
long-delayed letters. 

“I have neither the inclination nor the cour- 
age to write, ’ ’ she said. ‘ ‘ England is so desolate 
— as desolate as my own heart and fireside. Al- 
fred is gone. His brother, Charles Peveral, 
lonely and disconsolate — lives. At present we 
are a tortured and bereaved nation. Scarcely a 


276 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


home that death has not touched. But I must not 
cloud your young heart with my disappointments. 
You will live to see peace rise above the ashes of 
our dead hopes, and be happy. 

There followed an account of her home life, her 
ambitions for her people, her desire to have Caro- 
line visit her after she had been graduated. She 
feared she should never see America again. She 
was far from well. War had taken both joy and 
health from her. 

Jeff’s visit ended in three weeks, but he in- 
sisted upon leaving the car behind him, small pay 
for the kindness that had been shown him. Doc- 
tor Ravenel was to ship it home and use it for 
his own convenience. This, of course. Doctor 
Eavenel would not do, but a satisfactory settle- 
ment was agreed upon, and he purchased it at a 
reasonable figure. Selah’s days were numbered. 

The night before the cottage was closed for the 
summer, Caroline had a stroll by the seaside with 
her father. 

have about decided,” he said to her sur- 
prise, ^Ho leave Mayre in Berkeley with you. 
Mrs. Mackintosh may, perhaps, be willing to let 
her board with her, if she has the room. It would 
add to her income. Mayre wants to study, and 
we must make the opportunity for her.” 

‘^Oh, but Major — what will you do with us all 
away I ’ ’ 

‘^That is life, my dear child. We still have 
you — in the flesh. We must learn to be thank- 
ful.” 


A SUMMER BY THE SEA 277 


‘ ‘ But what will you do with the big house 1 ^ ’ 

‘‘Continue to rent it, I think, until you come 
home again. It is possible I may be able to keep 
my office — or I can find one nearer town. Your 
mother and I will be quite comfortable in a hotel 
or a good boarding house, and she will be less 
lonely. Maumy’s day of usefulness is past. I 
shall try to send her South this winter.’^ 

Caroline walked in silence. Maumy was the 
last straw. Childhood was over. Life with its 
stern realities faced her. 

“I can’t bear it. Major,” she said. “I can’t!” 

For a moment neither spoke. The Major drew 
an arm through hers. “As people grow older, 
Caroline, they live more and more in the past, ’ ’ he 
said. “That is what I shall have to do. There 
are precious memories of the old home; there is 
your return to await ; God willing, there are years 
of usefulness ahead for both of us. Let us not 
despair. Let us hope. I have not yet let go your 
hand. Remember that. I still hold it, with all 
the old affection. ’ ’ 

It had slipped along her arm, that kind, com- 
forting hand, until it found hers. Caroline’s met 
it in a warm clasp. 

For a long time they walked in silence. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


A HOUSE PAKTY 

C AROLINE, approaching her twenty-second 
year, had changed but little : she had rounded 
out perhaps, grown a trifle taller. She was light, 
supple, with a mild enthusiasm that never failed 
to attract. While not an athletic girl in any sense 
of the word — dreamers never are — she pos- 
sessed a certain alertness that passed for physical 
strength. 

She had grown more comely with her chrysalis 
years, and at times was really beautiful. Men 
invariably turned to watch her as she passed. 
There was something in her quick step, in her 
striking, clean-cut profile, the sparkle of her bril- 
liant eyes, that invited admiration. 

There was also a joyousness about her as com- 
pelling as it was wholesome. When her lips 
parted in a smile, her face lighted. When she 
reached out a hand to acknowledge an introduc- 
tion, something went with it. Her professors 
called it personality: her friends, comradeship. 

The girls at the sorority house loved her with 
a devotion akin to worship. If they desired rep- 
resentation on the campus, they chose Caroline. 


A HOUSE PARTY 


279 


If they wanted a lark, she was the leader ; if they 
were in sorrow, they turned to her for sympathy 
and counsel. It was not surprising” that she 
should have been chosen to succeed Nell Neally as 
Senior house president, though she protested with 
every excuse imaginable. 

“I think you really owe it to us,’’ the younger 
girls said. ^‘Look at the success you have had 
with Eunice Middleton; you have literally meta- 
morphosed her — you and Margaret Mackintosh 
together — ” 

‘‘Mrs. Mackintosh, you mean,” Caroline would 
hastily interpose. 

“Well, you’ve put her on the map,” some one 
suggested. “Next year, if she stays, she will be 
quite a rage.” 

“She will stay. Mrs. Mackintosh has promised 
to see her through her four years.” 

“What will she do then?” 

Caroline shook her head. “Then,” she said, 
“I shall no longer be responsible. I hope that 
she will meet a good man and marry him, as Betty 
did. Some girls are made for homes. Eunice is 
one of them.” 

College had changed materially in Caroline’s 
fourth year. Shu de Li had graduated and re- 
turned to China with her family, her father hav- 
ing gone into business there. Betty, unable to 
endure the separation from Stanley, had left col- 
lege and married him, settling down comfortably 
to await his medical diploma. Hannah Rosser 
was gone ; so were Nell and Estelle. The flatiron 


280 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


room had new tenants. Betty had donated her 
furniture as a memorial to the happy days spent 
there. Caroline had taken a single room on the 
second floor. 

The changes saddened Caroline. Senior year 
in college, she found, was altogether different 
from the other three. One thought more about 
one’s studies than of formal dances, and one 
missed, to the point of tears, old friends and faces. 

It had been Caroline’s intention to leave the 
sorority house and take up her abode with Mrs. 
Mackintosh. She wanted to be with Margaret, 
but finding that the girls really desired her pres- 
ence in the capacity of house president, she gave 
up the plan and settled down among them. 

Depression was still in the air. Boys were re- 
turning home, some of them disabled, some crip- 
pled, some too weary to take up the work where 
they had left it for the call to arms. 

Biddy had changed. He was no longer gay and 
light-hearted. There was a worn, world-weary 
look in his eyes. He was thin and haggard. 
Even Emma did not attract him as of old. ‘‘I’ve 
had enough of automobiles to last me the rest of 
my life,” he said, when Caroline tried to revive 
his interest. For long intervals, when they 
walked home from the Libe or up to the “C”, he 
was gloomily silent. His thoughts were far away. 
Caroline brought every power to bear upon his 
moods. She was gay; she was interesting; she 
was humorous. She increased her stock of jokes. 
All fell like lead upon Biddy’s sodden spirits. 


A HOUSE PARTY 


281 


‘‘Don’t worry about me,” be would say grate- 
fully. “I’ll come out of this in time, but now — ” 
His band would go over bis eyes as if to shut out 
haunting memories. 

One day at mid-week be said to ber, “I’m going 
borne Friday. Mother’s been rather anxious for 
me to bring some people down for the week-end. 
If I can get the crowd together will you come — 
you and Mayre?” 

She could not refuse. She knew that be needed 
life and gayety. His mother evidently saw bis 
need. 

From the beginning the journey proved delight- 
ful : the long road winding like a ribbon through 
city and country; the soft autumn breezes; the 
college patter that went on in the car, the jokes 
and laughter. 

Mayre drew a quick breath when they came 
upon the quaint old house tucked away between 
sun-tipped hills, — a dwelling such as she had 
dreamed of, with its trees and shrubs, its spacious 
gardens. 

There was something very distinctive about the 
place. 

“Built over a hundred years ago,” Biddy ex- 
plained, noting her puzzled gaze. “Adobe. We 
never know when it is hot — or cold. Those old 
walls were made to endure. Of course the gov- 
ernor has remodeled the place. We are quite 
comfortable and up-to-date.” 

The house set high. One climbed a flight of 
stone steps to reach the wide veranda and enter 


282 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


the long living room in front. There were wings 
on either side. Between them ran a court filled 
with flowers and spraying fountains, according to 
the old Spanish plan. 

‘^But you said it was just a plain, old-fashioned 
house, Biddy, Caroline exclaimed. ^Tt is really 
a wonderful country home — ’’ 

‘Tt^s wonderfully comfortable,’’ Biddy said, 
and went to find his mother. 

Mrs. Webster fitted into the surroundings: a 
sweet-faced woman with hair just beginning to 
silver. 

Biddy threw an arm about her as he made the 
introductions. One could feel the affection that 
existed between them. A moment later Mr. 
Webster strolled in with his daughter and the pic- 
ture was complete. 

am sure that you are all very tired and 
dusty, and will want to freshen up a bit before 
dinner,” Mrs. Webster suggested. She pressed 
a button near the door. A young Chinese girl 
appeared and led the way to the guest cham- 
bers. 

Caroline followed in a dream, feeling suddenly 
as though she had stepped into the Orient. The 
little maid in her native costume pattered ahead 
softly, smiling as she opened the door to one of 
the most fascinating chambers Caroline had ever 
seen. 

^‘Ah Sing, he will bring bags, right ’way,” she 
said. ^ ^ The bath it is here, and the bell, it is also 
here, by the door.” 


A HOUSE PARTY 283 

She backed out of the room with the ease of a 
debutante. Caroline turned to Mayre. 

‘‘Did you ever see anything so cunning in your 
life? It was all I could do to keep from squeez- 
ing her, in those scarlet pantaloons and that sky- 
blue jacket!’’ 

The room was gay with chintzes and white 
wicker furniture. But it was the French door 
leading to the sleeping porch that drew Caroline ’s 
attention. The maid had opened it. 

“Oh, Mayre, do come here,” Caroline cried 
when she had taken a peep. 

There were two beds, snowy white in their fresh 
coverlets, except at the foot where down comforts 
gave a delectable splash of blue; the beds were 
raised on a little dais. 

“Do you see why they are raised that way?” 
Mayre whispered, her artistic eyes solving the 
mystery. “It is to catch the view down the val- 
ley. Fancy lying in bed here — waking rather — 
and watching nature paint the dawn. Can’t you 
see the curtain going up — all misty with rose 
and silver?” 

A knock interrupted the question. Chan, the 
little maid, stood in the doorway. 

“Mrs. Webster say we dine, not till seven 
’clock; perhaps young ladies like rest for hour,” 
she said. 

Later, as Caroline and Mayre left the room, a 
musical chime rang the hour. Caroline had 
dressed in a fluffy yellow organdy. Around her 
throat she had clasped a string of amber beads 


284 CAROLIlSrE AT COLLEGE 


that coaxed warm lights into her hazel eyes. 
Mayre thought she had never seen her half so 
attractive. 

The dining room was a place of open windows, 
birds and flowers. It seemed, almost, to be a 
part of the patio with its splashing fountains and 
blooming plants. 

‘‘What a wonderful place to dine,^^ Caroline 
whispered to Biddy’s father as she opened her 
napkin and looked about. 

Mr. Webster’s smile broke pleasantly. 

“We are fond of it,” he admitted. “Dining 
out of doors helps the appetite. Do you like the 
country?” 

“I really don’t know very much about it — this 
kind of country.” 

It was when they were having coffee in the patio 
later that Caroline said to Biddy: 

“I have an early engagement in the morning. 
I’m going over the ranch with your father before 
breakfast. I’m going to see the grapevines and 
the orange trees; the dogs and calves!” 

“I’m glad that you and the governor hit it off,” 
Biddy said, and his face lighted with, the old en- 
thusiasm. 

The trip over the ranch proved a delightful 
experience. Caroline had wakened early. She 
had watched nature ring up the curtain on a 
drowsy world; had seen the dawn in the East. 
And she had enjoyed Biddy’s father, quite as 
much as she had ever enjoyed Biddy. She had 
thrilled at his tales of the early days; marveled 


A HOUSE PARTY 285 

at his descriptions. She watched him as he point- 
ed out improvements and told of early struggles 
to make the old place pay. She caught his en- 
thusiasm, his love of home, his pride in the land^s 
response to a kindly touch. 

don’t know,” he said, a 'little thoughtfully, 
‘‘whether my lad is going to get the same joy I’ve 
had out of the old place or not. I doubt it some- 
times. One has to build to appreciate — serve in 
order to reap. Things come too easily to this 
generation. We are not always fair to you. We 
spoil you, surfeit you — and then wonder at your 
satiety. ’ ’ 

He shook his head slowly. 

“I suppose his happiness will depend largely 
upon the kind of a wife he brings home. Some 
girls wouldn’t care for the life here — ” He 
stopped there, as if broaching too intimate a 
subject. 

It was later in the day that Biddy announced 
plans for the evening. 

“We are going to motor over to the beach for 
a moonlight supper, ’ ’ he said. 

The arrangements had been thoughtfully made. 
Biddy’s fraternity brothers and the young women 
who had been invited with them, including Mayre, 
were to take Emma, Biddy and Caroline follow- 
ing in a smaller roadster. Mrs. Webster, with 
her husband and the servants, would appear later 
with the supper. 

It was a long ride. On the way the party 
passed Mrs. Mackintosh’s stately home with the 


286 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


little Lodge tucked away in the rear. Biddy ex- 
plained : 

^^Mr. Mackintosh, a charming old Scotchman, 
well known about here, was never very successful 
financially. All he left at his death was the home. 
I believe Mrs. Mackintosh rents it to very good 
advantage and lives in the little house near 
by.’' 

Caroline insisted upon having a look at the 
Lodge. Margaret had so often spoken of it. 
Fortunately a blind had been raised and she could 
see the comfortable room within, plain almost to 
barrenness, but that did not surprise her. Mar- 
garet’s rigid economy during their days together 
at ^‘The Tubs” had given an idea of their cir- 
cumstances. 

Caroline mused for the next few miles. She 
was thinking of Margaret in her present surround- 
ings. Difficult as Eunice had been, order was 
coming out of chaos. Eunice was improving, 
Margaret was preparing to fight life’s battles, 
splendidly trained for the struggle. It was good 
to know that through Eunice’s superfluous wealth 
both were profiting. She took no credit to her- 
self. Mrs. Mackintosh had wrought the miracle, 
with tact and patience. 

They had begun to climb a steep hill when 
Biddy spoke. Slowly the sun had waned and twi- 
light deepened. 

Don’t turn your head,” he said; ‘T want you 
to get your first glimpse of the sea from the top. 
Keep your eyes to the East.” 


A HOUSE PARTY 


287 


Caroline saw it first — a great yellow moon ris- 
ing above tlie tip of the hill. They stopped for 
a moment to watch it sail. But it was the next 
stop that brought a stifled exclamation. Biddy 
had driven on to a point of some prominence. 

‘‘Now,” he said, and turned so that she faced 
the waters of the mighty Pacific. “There’s your 
view! Nothing like it in all America, if I do say 
it who shouldn ’t ! ” 

Caroline sat spellbound. For a moment she 
could not speak. She was always moved by 
beauty in any form. Ordinarily, she could con- 
trol her leaping emotions, but to-night the mag- 
nificence of the scene quite overwhelmed her. 

“It is the silver sea, isn’t it?” she said when 
she could find words. “I have often heard of it 
— and read of it, but this is my first real vision. 
It ’s too beautiful to talk about ; anyway, my Eng- 
lish isn’t adequate.” 

They left the car and wandered to the very edge 
of the brown hill, sitting in silence while the moon 
rose, showering its reflective light upon the trem- 
bling sea. For a long time they sat there. Caro- 
line’s memory stirred with bits of half-forgotten 
verse. Much to her surprise, when she forgot, 
Biddy supplemented. She had not dreamed that 
he could produce those odds and ends from an- 
tiquated masters in tones that showed apprecia- 
tion. When she began, “How sweet the moon- 
light sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit, 
and let the sound of music” — and could get no 
farther, he went on, “creep in our ears; soft still- 


288 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


ness, and the night, become the touches of sweet 
harmony. ’ ’ 

He was shy when she complimented him, apolo- 
gizing in boyish fashion. ‘‘Had a course in that 
old duck once, — Shakespeare. Gifford made me 
memorize. ’ ’ 

But he urged Caroline on. Her low voice, 
sweet with its Southern accent, intrigued him, and 
the night invited poetry. “It was made for it,’’ 
he said. 

Perhaps it was the moonlight; perhaps it was 
the great silence that wrapped itself about them; 
perhaps it was Caroline’s sympathetic presence, 
but Biddy forgot the horrors of the past year. 
He talked as he had not talked for months — of 
his boyhood; of experiences out on those shim- 
mering waters; his home; his people. He spoke 
of his ambitions — his hopes — ” 

When they rose to go, his eyes were very ten- 
der. But only the soft wind, scampering on to 
the sea, and the gentle nodding flowers, shared 
Caroline’s confldence. 

At the beach a huge bonfire greeted them. Ah 
Sing and his wife were busy with the supper. 
Caroline caught the odor of beefsteak broiling, 
coffee simmering, bacon sizzling. 

“Oh, how good it smells!” she cried, drinking 
in the appetizing draughts. “Isn’t there some- 
thing I can do to help? I am an experienced 
picnicker. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Webster stretched forth a friendly hand. 

“You may sit right down here with me and 


A HOUSE PARTY 


289 


get this view. I have never seen the water more 
beautiful/’ she said. ‘Ut is in its happiest 
mood.^’ 

Next morning, the dawn found Caroline still 
sleeping. It was the patter of little Chan’s feet 
in the room that finally awakened her. 

‘Ut is Sunday,” Chan called softly, ‘‘and your 
breakfast, it will be served here. Will you have 
it in the room, or on the porch in the shade of 
the awning?” 

“Here, please, Chan,” Mayre answered. “It 
will be glorious. I have heard the birds calling 
in my sleep for hours.” 

“Not in your sleep. Miss. It was high in the 
fig tree there.” 

It was a dainty breakfast that Chan served: 
mixed fruits in tall iced glasses ; coffee with thick 
country cream; golden muffins and honey. 

Mayre ’s glance took in the garden below, wan- 
dering from the fruit trees to the brown hills. 

“I don’t believe heaven could he more beau- 
tiful — or restful,” she said. “I almost envy 
the girl who will some day fall heir to it all.” 


CHAPTER XXV 


SUCCESS 

W INTER found the sorority house gripped 
by influenza. Caroline was among the 
first to contract the dreaded disease. Days were 
filled with horror and apprehension — each a 
separate agony. The flatiron room became a hos- 
pital. Nurses were scarce, almost unattainable. 

Eunice Middleton, aroused to what Caroline's 
protection and friendship had meant to her, 
seemed crazed with anxiety. She rushed to the 
sorority house with horror-stricken eyes. 

‘ ‘ Caroline ! ’ ’ she cried. ‘ ‘ Where is she 1 Take 
me to her.’’ 

She was refused admittance to Caroline ’s room. 
She went away with something of the old deter- 
mination upon her, returning in half an hour with 
an ambulance and nurse. 

‘‘Please,” she begged Mrs. Rankin, “let me 
take her home. Mrs. Mackintosh has the room 
all ready. We can give her better care there.” 
In the end she had her way. 

Three days later, when Caroline had safely 
passed the crisis, she opened her eyes in Eunice ’s 


SUCCESS 


291 


quiet room overlooking the hills. Eunice, pale 
and watchful, was on her knees beside her. You 
mustn^t speak,’’ she whispered; ^^you are too 
weak. Please, I insist.” 

Caroline’s gaze left the anxious face to wander 
over the room, then fell to the strange bed upon 
which she lay ; it was all too unbelievable, she had 
no recollection of coming; on — on, her gaze 
traveled — 

Suddenly it halted ; rested at her own hand, no 
longer brown, but deathly white and thin. It lay 
on the counterpane limp and helpless. She looked 
closer — tried to lift it, to see what it was that 
circled one of her fingers. Presently her face 
lighted with a wan smile. She understood. It 
was a little ring set with a cluster of pearls. 
Eunice’s mascot! 

Spring brought a reaction. The campus sprang 
to life again. Dances were resumed. Biddy re- 
vived. He even drove Emma, coming for Caro- 
line after her work was done, for a spin into the 
country. Sometimes they went over to the city 
for dinner ; not an unusual custom among student 
friends. Occasionally they lingered for a movie 
or a good play. There was at least a semblance 
of the old gaiety. 

But Caroline was too busy for many frivolities. 
Her studies were difficult, her strength limited 
after her illness. Still she worked, sometimes 
far into the night. Only a few months were left 
of college life. She was eager to attain a goal 
she had set for herself — a goal that would mean 


292 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


lier first taste of success, if she accomplished her 
desire. 

Each year a play was given in the Glade; an 
original play, the contest open to all students. 
For two years Caroline had been watching this 
opportunity to try her ability, waiting until she 
had gained the knowledge and technic to exploit 
her talent. She went about gathering her mate- 
rial ; the plot had long lain in her mind, building 
her foundation, raising the skeleton of her in- 
genuous fancy. 

She had founded the play on a poem beloved of 
her childhood; the contest of an immortal god 
with a man for the love of an earthly maiden. 
Perhaps her old idea of angels governing the des- 
tinies of men may have entered into the general 
plan, for she merely used the poem as a sugges- 
tion, working out her own ideas with bold orig- 
inality. 

The Glade, with its friendly oaks, its murmur- 
ing stream, its miniature hills and soft fragrant 
breezes, helped to idealize her plot and situations. 
She spent hours going over the ground, marking 
out her setting, whetting her eager fancy with the 
tiny forest’s wondrous possibilities. 

The play was in blank verse, strong in poetic 
feeling; correct in its mythological atmosphere, 
for with interest aroused, Caroline was a con- 
scientious and painstaking student. 

No one knew of her ambition except Mayre, for 
since Betty’s and Shu de Li’s departure, Caro- 
line had few intimates. Mayre was pressed into 


SUCCESS 


293 


service to design the immortaPs diaphanous cos- 
tumes, and the mortaPs earthly ones. She drew 
colored charts showing the gods ’ chase on the vel- 
vety downs, their long flowing draperies floating 
in the breeze; the dances of the nymphs. She 
made maps of stage settings according to Caro- 
line’s instructions. 

For Mayre, the year had been one of awakening 
dreams and satisfied desires. She had made her 
own circle of friends, mostly art students. She 
had her little round of pleasures; her few suc- 
cesses. She lacked Caroline’s magnetism, but her 
refinement was always an open sesame to the most 
desirable circles. 

Association with strangers had made her less 
shy, given her more confidence. Sometimes, see- 
ing her walking across the campus with a mighty 
Senior at her side, loaded with art books and 
sketching materials, Caroline had her doubts 
about Mayre ’s foreordination to old-maidenhood. 
She looked so pretty with her soft brown hair 
blown by the wind, her blue eyes sweet and eager. 

Caroline loved an occasional night at Mrs. 
Mackintosh’s. Sometimes there were little din- 
ner parties, when Biddy was bidden and the tall 
Senior who carried Mayre ’s books home; Eunice 
and her friends, too, approved by the family. 
Sometimes after dinner there would be music, 
dancing to the phonograph. Once in a while Mar- 
garet entertained serious looking men and women 
who talked economics, spoke of labor situations 
and socialism. On those occasions Caroline sat 


294 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 

back and listened, sometimes growing very sleepy, 
though she tried not to show it. Margaret ’s bril- 
liancy still dazzled her, she could not keep up with 
the strides of her keen mind. She worshipped 
her as many do a shrine, something above and be- 
yond her own dream world. 

And Margaret, with the clear student ^s mind, 
often envied Caroline her versatility, her adapt- 
ability, above all her personality. "V^en Caroline 
complimented her, as was often the case, Margaret 
would say with a sigh, ‘‘Oh, my dear, I am just 
an old grind! There are millions like me. Be 
thankful that the good Lord stamped you with 
individuality. ’ ’ 

As the year went forward, cares multiplied at 
the sorority house. It is difficult, at twenty-two, 
to become a disciplinarian. Freshmen were often 
troublesome. Sometimes Caroline, remembering 
her own advent into college life, closed an eye to 
indiscretions. She knew that floundering age: 
dangerous, yet somehow protected. Eunice had 
passed it in safety. Nine girls out of ten did. 
They were not half so bad as society liked to paint 
them. Youth overflows with life and spirit; 
she understood its moods and vagaries. Who 
better I 

Sometimes she envied those fresh rosy-cheeked 
young things their frolics; youth was perennial 
within her. It was always bubbling up, goading 
her to the same gay antics. There were days 
when she too wanted to fling books to the wind 
and tramp with a charming companion in the 


SUCCESS 


295 


hills, or forsake duties for dinner across the hay 
and a dance at one of the big, noisy show places. 
She loved the color and blare and lure of life! 
Just as she loved its solitudes. 

Being a Senior meant stupid conventionalities, 
she sometimes thought on Friday night, as she 
sat at home engaged in a game of bridge with 
Susan Stirling, Marian Burdick and Fanchon 
Donaldson, girls who were still in college working 
for their Master’s-degree. Not that she was with- 
out invitations, but she was too weary to accept 
them. A game of bridge rested her ; dancing un- 
fitted her for the demands of the week. 

Yet she had her dissipations : tramps through 
the woods with Biddy. Often they stopped at the 
Varsity shop for sandwiches which he stuffed into 
his deep coat pocket, along with candy and small 
cakes : that meant lunch in the hills. And Biddy 
still gave her his confidence. Sometimes she 
glimpsed those terrible days that he had struggled 
through over-seas. Sometimes she caught the 
gay lights of Paris; interesting impressions of 
foreign travel. 

And often, often she thought of Jimmy, con- 
valescing in a strange land. Sometimes there 
was word from him: an almost illegible scrawl 
that made her heart thump disgracefully and 
brought a lump to her throat. But his mother’s 
letters were encouraging. She had gone over to 
be with him — was bringing him home in June. 
She promised his complete recovery in time, hut 
the waiting was tedious and harassing. 


296 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


Other letters made her long for vacation. The 
Major and her mother were counting the days. 
They had been considering an offer to sell the big 
house, keeping the old furniture to be distributed 
among the girls, — all that they would not need 
in a cottage. There were so many pretty places 
to be had and quite cheap, down along Broadmore, 
an ideal location. One could have a garden ; there 
were singing birds in the near-by fields and 
canons ; the breezes were cooler, more in- 
vigorating. 

Caroline read between the lines. The Major 
was preparing for a comfortable old age. His 
cares had lessened. She and Mayre would soon 
be self-supporting. It had always been his idea 
to have his daughters try their wings before set- 
tling into matrimony, though Mrs. Ravenel could 
not bear the thought. 

‘^We are only hesitating,’’ he wrote, ‘‘because 
we wonder if you and Mayre would be happy in 
the country. Still there would be the car. One 
can get about so easily these days. I have given 
up night visits altogether and confine my practice 
to consultations and office work. Of course I 
shall continue to serve as long as I have strength, 
and my patients’ confidence.” He also added, 
“Dorwin (Maumy’s son) writes that Maumy is 
quite happy in her cabin near his own and that 
she stood the trip South remarkably well for one 
of her years, though she sadly misses her family 
in the West.” Then quite peremptorily, “Find 
time to write her.” 


SUCCESS 


297 


Not by the wildest flight of her imagination 
could Caroline picture strangers in the red house 
facing the Peak. It was hallowed for all eternity 
with the spirits of the loving family that had 
dwelt there. 

How much the old place had meant to her — to 
all of them! How many happy hours she had 
spent in the tower room; in her father ^s office — 
on the old veranda. Was it possible she should 
know those days no more? ^‘Was life always 
shifting, changing, turning from gold to drab?^^ 
she wondered. 

But she wrote back : 

‘‘Of course I can see how absurd it would be for you 
and Mother to go on in the old way. You had to make 
the change to the hotel and it seems to have worked out 
fairly well. Perhaps the new plans may be equally satis- 
factory. But, somehow, life seems to be passing us by 
with a wave and farewell these days. I notice it here. 
Girls I knew intimately a year ago are scattered to the 
four winds. I suppose the only thing to do is to pro- 
ject one^s desires and ambitions far enough ahead of one’s 
loves and opportunities to make the race worth running. 

“As to the house. Of course you must sell it. It is 
too big and troublesome for Mother ; servants too scarce, 
to be depended upon. But, if you do sell, try to find 
some one with children. Somebody who will love it; 
somebody who will sing in the halls and laugh on the 
veranda; somebody who will spend hours, as we did, at 
the telescope, and clear the drawing-room for parties. 
Those old walls have always responded to happiness : the 
queer old quirks and turns and twistings are as full of 
mystery as fairy palaces.” 


298 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


It took courage to go on : 

^‘Mayre and I also have our dreams. Sometimes when 
we are alone (which is not often) we plan a little studio 
in New York, where she can paint and design ; and I can 
have a little cubbyhole for my desk and filing case. 
^Bavenel and Ravenel’ we are going to be — on the door, 
you know, and to the public. Can you see us courting 
fame up under one of those sky-scraping roofs with two 
or three Kirtley heirlooms to give us atmosphere and 
comfort r’ 

April saw the beginning of Caroline's conquest. 

Her play was chosen out of the many submitted. 
The sorority house went wild with joy. Congrat- 
ulations were accompanied with flowers ; they 
were heaped in the little second-story chamber, 
they decorated the dining room; parties were 
given. The flatiron room opened its doors. For 
the second time Caroline's birthday was toasted 
in song and laughter. The girls brought gifts 
and libations. They went through mock cere- 
monies, crowning their president with garlands. 
It was a happy time, one long to he remembered. 

Margaret celebrated the event with a dinner for 
Caroline’s closest friends. little thought,” 
she said, toasting the honored guest, ‘Hhat when 
I bumped into Caroline, three years and more 
ago, scattering her books in every direction, that 
I was prostrating myself before genius !” 

As to the actual production of the play, Caro- 
line had but the dimmest recollection. She re- 
membered only the hard weeks of preparation; 


SUCCESS 


299 


the rehearsals, the confusion, — and then, a won- 
drous night out under the stars when some one 
brought her from the leafy bower that served as 
a greenroom in deed and in truth; of standing 
surprised and shy while her name was called and 
the Glade resounded with applause. 

She only knew that her greatest wish, could it 
have been granted just then, would have been to 
see the Major’s face light with happiness, to hear 
his softly whispered words of encouragement and 
praise. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


COMMENCEMENT 

C ommencement was not the thrilling cli- 
max to her four years’ college career that 
Caroline had imagined. By the time she was 
ready to receive her diploma, the campus had 
taken on a deserted, cleaned-out appearance that 
spelled dejection. Undergraduates, free from 
trying examinations and exacting house rules, had 
fled to near-by homes. Only upper classmen and 
ambitious post-graduates remained for the final 
exercises. 

The Seniors’ pilgrimage, owing to the absence 
of the Major, whom she had expected up to the 
last moment, was shed of its anticipated glory. 
Caroline had so often pictured that triumphant 
march, with her father following the procession, 
proud and interested, but the Major’s practice, 
had, as usual, raised a barrier between pleasure 
and duty. He had written Caroline : 

‘^You cannot possibly regret my absence from your 
final exercises as I do, but a desperately sick child, hover- 
ing between life and death, leaves no question as to my 
decision. A physician’s life is a consecration to duty, 
and you, my dear child, disappointed as you are, would 


COMMENCEMENT 


301 


not have me falter. But I shall be with you in spirit, 
watching you as you wind your way through your beauti- 
ful campus, stopping at your various buildings for your 
last farewells, as you have so definitely pictured. My 
congratulations upon your attainment. I am proud and 
happy when I think of your achievement, for a college 
diploma means more than a recognition of work accom- 
plished. It means perseverance and application : equip- 
ment for the journey along that great highway called 
Life. Our love to you. Our prayers for continued suc- 
cess. ^ ’ 

And yet, shorn of its greatest attraction, the 
pageant remained a vital spot in Caroline ^s mem- 
ory. Often, as she climbed ‘Hhe steep highway 
the picture came back to her. She lived again 
that sweet May morning; caught the tang of the 
ocean air that swept the campus, laden with the 
perfume of flowers and budding trees; saw the 
women in their white gowns — their parasols gay 
with class colors raised above their heads; the 
men in white flannels, their blue serge coats con- 
trasting pleasantly with the women’s spotless 
array. 

Sometimes brief snatches of speeches made be- 
neath the arching trees, or in the shadow of a 
familiar building, came back with added force, or 
she beheld the profile of a beloved professor sil- 
houetted in the throng. 

She could scarcely realize that she had come to 
the end of her college life, as she moved forward 
in the procession; dazed a little; her happiness 
marred by the keen edge of disappointment. If 


302 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


only the Major face had been one of those peer- 
ing through the crowd ! 

The senior luncheon, too, merry with innova- 
tions, had left its impression. Would she ever 
forget the long table, — a garden of flowers. Or 
the dainty basket heaped with telltale posies, 
passed between courses. Shyly, and with burn- 
ing blushes, the engaged girls had drawn an 
orange blossom. With pretended resignation 
others had reached for the ominous blue bachelors 
button. 

But, after all, it was the spirit of desolation at 
the sorority house that cut deepest into her con- 
sciousness, gave her a feeling of finality. She 
realized, for the first time, that life had a way of 
dividing itself into chapters. She had closed the 
first one years before — when she helped Maumy 
fasten the battered door of the old Kirtley kitchen. 
The second, when she said good-by to the tower 
room. And now — now it was farewell to these 
dearly beloved associations. 

She returned to the house from the last of her 
dissipations, one afternoon, to find it empty. The 
halls were deserted. In the living room the blinds 
were drawn, the piano closed and locked. 

Caroline paused in the doorway. A flood of 
memories swept over her. How well she remem- 
bered her first night there. The girls had tried 
to cheer her drooping spirits. How sweet they 
had been — how considerate. Was it possible 
that she would never again see Tommy ^s sandled 
feet twinkling over those old floors in a merry 


COMMENCEMENT 


303 


dance — hear the rounds of applause that always 
greeted her efforts? Would she never sit with 
Shu de Li in the window seat — listening to her 
whispered confidences? Were the Sunday night 
teas with Biddy by the fireplace over — forever! 

She turned quickly and fled up the long flight 
of stairs that led to her room on the second floor. 
At the door she stopped again. A tattered 
scratch pad, suspended by a string from a crooked 
nail, beckoned to her. She took it down tenderly, 
smiling as her eyes traveled over the long list of 
names : 

Elizabeth Perkins ; City ; returned at eleven fifteen. 

Sarah Hampton ; City ; theatre. Home at twelve thirty 

P. M. 

Dorothy Manners ; City. Dinner dance. Home two 

A. M. 

And then: Nancy Thurston, City; dance at 
the Frantic. Home — one A. M. But the one 
had been crossed out, and two written over it. 
Honest Nancy! 

Her room too, seemed forsaken. Pictures had 
been stripped from the wall; Major, her mother, 
the girls and old Maumy lay in the bottom of the 
ark. The pretty cretonne curtains that Leigh 
had sent were down ; the bureau bare of scarf. 

From the west window a ray of sunshine fell 
upon a pile of books. Time had been when Caro- 
line detested those scarred covers, but now she 
dropped down on the floor and took them in her 
lap tenderly. She wanted to look at them once 


304 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


more, before she carried them downstairs to the 
library for next year’s girls to puzzle and frown 
over. Each one, like the chapters of her life, 
marked an epoch. 

But she had only half finished when the tom, 
penciled pages became unbearable. She picked 
up as many of the books as she could carry, and 
started downstairs. In the lower hall she met 
Susan Stirling. 

^‘Why, Susan,” she said, ‘‘I thought you had 
gone ! ’ ’ 

‘T had. But I came back. Train was three 
hours late. I — I thought I ’d sort of like to wait 
here. I — I Ve loved this old place, you know — 
been happy here — ” 

Caroline nodded. 

‘ ^ I know, ’ ’ she said. 

‘T didn’t realize it could look so glum — 
cleaned out.” 

‘^Glum?” 

‘‘Yes; ’spose you’ve never seen a glum house 
before. Well I have — many. When are you 
leaving?” 

‘ ‘ To-morrow morning. ’ ’ 

“Well, good-by again. Write sometimes. I’ve 
got to get back to the station. I left Dickie with 
a strange woman. Hope she won’t walk off with 
him. ’ ’ 

She had reached the front door when she 
turned. 

‘ ‘ I say, Caroline, I was hoping I might see some 
one. I’m terribly short of money for the long 


COMMENCEMENT 305 

trip IVe got to make — Boston, you know. You 
couldn^t lend me ten dollars, could you? Pay you 
back as soon as I reach home.^^ 

Caroline’s low laugh echoed through the empty 
hall. 

‘T am not any too flush myself, Susan,” she 
said. 

‘‘But your journey is short — only two nights 
out. ’ ’ 

Caroline reached for a hidden pocket and 
brought forth a purse. 

“Sure ten’s enough?” she asked. 

“Oh, I could use fifteen, but — ” 

‘ ‘ Here it is. I can borrow from Mayre. ’ ’ 

“Yes, of course. One always can borrow. 
Such a comfort. Thanks a lot, old dear. I 
shan’t forget to send it back. Come East some 
day. Here’s hoping!” 

She put out her firm white hand. Caroline 
pressed it warmly. The door slammed. Susan, 
too, was numbered with the past. 

Caroline went back to her room, finished her 
packing, closed and locked the bulging ark. She 
wondered if it had ever been so stuffed before — 
if, in those long-ago Briarly days its dainty trays 
were desecrated with the medley it now held. 
She thought not. She could scarcely picture her 
lady mother stowing linen with lingerie ; bedding 
with window drapes, but — times had changed. 

She was to dine at seven o’clock with Mrs. 
Mackintosh and her family. There were yet two 
hours to spare. 


306 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


She found herself striking off toward the cam- 
pus presently, though there was no reason why 
she should choose its deserted walks. Habit, per- 
haps, or, like poor Susan, ‘‘because she loved it. 
She had been so happy there. ’ ^ 

As she walked, persistent memories stalked be- 
side her; ghosts of other days. Here was the 
hotel where Biddy had first bumped into her. Her 
heart bounded as she passed the portal. She 
could almost hear his merry, 

**So, then, it’s up with the Blue and Gold — down with 
the Eed, 

California’s out for a victory, 

Then his irresistible whistle ending with : 

**Like our friend, Mr. Jonah, Stanford’s team will be found 
In the tummy of the Golden Bear. ’ ’ 


Dear old Biddy ! What a good pal he had been. 
She recalled the visit she had made to his home — 
a moonlight ride along the sea, and her face 
flushed. 

As she passed his fraternity house, somber and 
forsaken in the late afternoon sunshine, she was 
reminded of an amusing incident that had hap- 
pened there. It was at a Nickel Crawl dance. 
They had gone from house to house, laughing and 
joking, care-free and altogether happy. In the 
hall, a youth had stopped them and after a hasty 
introduction, asked Biddy for one of her dances. 
Biddy had glanced up. “From the Farm?” he 
asked. The youth nodded. 


COMMENCEMENT 


307 


Courtesy between the two colleges demanded 
that Biddy grant the request. He held out his 
hand for the lad’s overcoat, holding it while she 
whirled oft with him. 

She had come back to find Biddy in a white 
heat. The overcoat lay crumpled on the hall 
table. 

‘‘What’s the matter?” she asked, as they 
moved toward the next house. 

She laughed now as she recalled his answer : 

“That smart young guy wasn’t from the Farm. 
He’s a Frosh. Fine ducking he’ll get for his im- 
pertinence ! ’ ’ 

The Glade was deserted, but the birds and 
gurgling brook were company enough. Caroline 
walked on — through the campus and out toward 
the hills. 

She was a little spent when she reached the big 
“C” and dropped down to rest. 

For a long time she sat there, basking in the 
warm sunshine, digging her heels in the soft moist 
earth, plucking at the tangled weeds and grasses. 
Thinking — thinking — 

Often she lifted her head and gazed at the 
peaceful city nestling between hills and sea. She 
was glad to have her last view of it alone — to 
ponder on all that it had meant to her. 

The sun dropped lower in the west. Still she 
sat thinking of her first days there — of old 
pleasure — old pain. She could see the stately 
Library building, and a certain window on the 
fourth floor — aflame now, from the red sky in 


308 CAROLINE AT COLLEGE 


the west. That window sent a chill to her heart 
— and yet, the small darkly curtained room be- 
yond had made its contribution: there she had 
learned patience, justice — sympathy. 

She went back over the years, and taking them 
up, one by one, held them to her heart. What 
was she to do with them : these precious, profitable 
years her father had sacrificed to give her? If 
she could only distill them into usefulness, return 
to her beloved Alma Mater gift for gift — prove 
herself worthy of its bounty — 

The thought rose like a prayer as she looked 
out into the thickening twilight. Below, at the 
foot of the narrow path that led to town, the 
lights in Mrs. Mackintosh’s dining room gleamed 
friendlily. 

With a sigh half-sad, half-glad, she started 
toward them. 


THE END 




















